The Schooner

Stepping into the shadow of my own thought,
Where neither names nor cities are known to time,
Dreams awakened like ghosts of madness,
From the lips of forgotten gods and tablets of sand.

In a sea that breathes with the eyes of planets,
Sailed a schooner, fashioned from shadows.
Its sails – made of silence and fissures,
And the compass – nothing but the pulse of my imagination.

There, forests grew from the petals of oblivion,
And beasts spoke with the voices of lost tenderness.
I saw birds flying within souls, not in the sky,
And fish swimming through the depths,
Leaving scars upon the heart.