mystic island

A Voyage


The ship was loaded we were going to
an island in the Saragossa that cannot be
seen by radar as it is always surrounded by
a miasma of sadness, here daybreak is
only a five second glimmer in an endless
night and only expert navigators are able
to find this island…

Our cargo consisted of discarded dreams
the islanders had lived so long in peace
that they had lost the ability to think of
esoteric things, their word expanse was
of seaweed and monster cods; but they
needed this diversion if not they would
sink into apathy and die

When the ship blew its siren for the third
time and the gangway was lifted, I was
hiding behind a warehouse that was full
of dreams destined for another island,
I wouldn’t like to be a part of this, giving
people second hand dreams when the could
consisting of clichés and spent phrases.

I could have lived with this mild betrayal
if it hadn’t been for the rule that no crew
member were allowed to dream or read
or sing, but be, as often long time sailors
are, men who have lost their ability to
remember that once their were children
and not blinded by endless tediousness.

Worst of all, perhaps, it was said that ships
going there were crewed by the world
weary, men who are shadows of themselves
who drowned when crossing the vastest
expands, too far away from a priests soothing
words were love had lost its meaning and
the last thought was of a whore in Santiago.