The stars are hoisted
Upon the picturesque azure
And they twine
To craft constellations
That I’ve no claim
Over monikers
Or sobriquets.
They speak to me
One by one:
A vague scintillation,
A language that is obscure.
This night is sculpted
Into a day despite the furlough
Of the kingly Sun.
The sea – I’ve zilch care.
The zephyr blows,
And asks me an inquiry
Of make-believe
A fictional travail -
A superlative travesty.
Do you believe in
Fables, young seafarer?
The night’s hysteria
Is latticed to my being.
And as a salutation,
I nodded as the stars
Are extinguished
One by one.
In this expanse,
From the far-fetched gardens,
I can hear a siren
Singing her allure:
A splendid symphony,
An unchained wail.
An arbitrary opus.
I am swoon over
As the sea is muted
And the waves
Are sent to abeyance.
Windsor Guadalupe Jr
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-seafarer-s-diary-berceuse-6/
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