Peach shades obscure the coastline's electric silhouette
as a moon-spoored night folds between the landfalls.
The island, only a retina sundown image,
rides my eye like a ghost's shadow on spent film.
The ship's bow scallops intricate Edinburgh cut-work,
edging a pillowcase for final slumber.
Skimming the bronze-shimmered horizon, the Big Dipper
scoops up the castaways of eternity.

In our impudence we try to splinter the cosmos
into fragments we can analyze, control.
With each moon-swept tide, this folly surges over me,
releases me from the snares of space and time.
My spirit commingles in a timeless boundlessness
with all that has been, is and ever will be.
Secure in the gentle rocking of the universe,
a new-born child cradled in infinity,
I float, a molecule encompassed in the vastness,
unified within the eternal life force.

Ebony waves couple in rapture with the eons.
At sea the gods have no names.