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"Fata Morgana" 

feet hardly touch the ocean
when silent stars of no voice
transmit words to pay the ferryman
on the water no reflection 

gently the sun waves smiling as if to say
feel that, the warmth of waking sleep
no fear of what remains hidden 
it will unravel from inside that which is all too deep

walking towards you across the briny mist
from ancient stories forgotten 
a halo of St Elmo’s Fire surrounds 
it stands still for a short while before you

watching 

you, 
walking water with your bare feet

faith in dreams consistent in their constancy
that visit you when you are complete yet incomplete
holds out its hand to lead the way across 
sharp burning rocks, now a desert, climbing mountains that are steep

a small life crumbles to powdered sand 
more than 40 days silent gone astray
years the turning of untimed tides pretence 
meets a haunting vision beckoning, new horizon, odd unclear

safe harbour left long ago, 
lost in that ornery time, cursed by flying monkeys' bellows
of bloodletting and betrayal, stock still, standing amidst the shallows
somewhere along the way dark narcissus followed

what breaks over the bow 
washes all stern fear away
sacred wings of albatross
ne’er to be sacrificed, no more night nor day

souls of ancient mariners 
forever follow me, even when I stray
the rich baritone of bedtime stories
messages in code conveyed, I hear them still today

now swallows spooning spinnakers
running directly before wind and sea
the water turns to wine, much stranger the belief,
all manna of trust it feeds

bells tolling 

no man’s an island entire of itself 
in unusual reckonings 
observing swimming hearts, that hear and see
the eyes that melt, this more curiously

in truth, the dream defends

messages eternal
life it never ends
tides move in and out
never alone when we begin

fata morgana
softly the moon ascends 

(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
VCB
Lux Vitae
5.5.10



"Under a splintered mast,
torn from ship and cast
              near her hull,

a stumbling shepherd found
embedded in the ground,
              a sea-gull

of lapis lazuli,
a scarab of the sea,
            with wings spread—

curling its coral feet,
parting its beak to greet
            men long dead."
("Talisman", Marianne Moore)
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