Marine

Rippling silver mercury passes by my anchored consciousness,
the sun rising like so many dawns,
overhead with silence and deafening songs.

I am helpess, watching as glass filaments plunge,
laden with good, beautiful, bad and ugly on golden barbs
destined, but chanced, for unwilling destructive flight.

And they come,
one by one my lovliest thoughts, my imaginative, painted muses
are ripped from their pensieve, fighting and struggling.

They lie here now,
colours fading, breath slowing, dying before my very eyes
on the floor where they were unceremoniously discarded.

My voyage continues,
back to the point of departure, sailing with my lifeless thoughts
as I take them home, their fate fulfilled, a feast, for all, their future.