A ghost ship floats eerily thru cumulus clouds,
In silhouette against the eerie light of the moon.
The ghost ship harbors no true light of its own,
Listen closely and you may hear it utter a groan.
Borrowed light illuminates its very tips and edges,
The ship utters no sound and makes no pledges.
The ghost ship only makes its journey by night,
Plying in the murky waters as a lonesome sight.
What does it carry within the depths of its hold,
But the memories the story of your life ever told.
Some memories are vivid and bring severe pain;
Others now so remote they are no longer the same.
Some memories capture wind in the sails of regret;
Others disappear into mist that we simply forget.
Some memories fly overhead on the wings of sorrow;
Others may linger until overcome by future’s tomorrow.
Eventually all memory will become a luminous absence,
Riding a ghost ship that you know has no true presence.
I'd love to see this ship in person, and ply the waves aboard her, though wouldn't that mean I would have to as well be dead, a ghost of a passenger on a sail forever into the unknown...-e-
actually, its presence is always there; otherwise, how can you describe it so colourfully. . . this is what makes us spirit-like in both ways, the bright and dark. At night we enjoy illumination, in hot daytime the shade is the most welcome; and that's how it works in every single field of our activity/inactivity. Cheers, alex
Ahhh . . So that's where my memories are kept. In the clammy hole of the ever wandering ghost ship. Eh, pray tell they remain there, at least the ones who give me nightmares. Sail on, old ghost ship, sail far away from me,
This makes me wonder: What happens when two ghost ships pass silently in the night. Is there a transmigration of thoughts, spirits, memories? Or are they fearful of such clashes, preferring that we sail our own ships alone. Eerie tale well told with mystery and imagination.
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Rebecca
Love ya!
Jane
Ron