All Journeys are Metaphors

The winter sea makes blades
of every northern wind
of every breaking wave
of every crystal of sand

I breathe spells from
the land as gray as fog
and fears from rain
frighted with wanting

Islands are mere images
strewn random
in expanse of unmeant
mist hazed of past missteps

The day vanishes as I listen
for angry wraiths respiring
in winds whining hunger
in deceitful wanting

Fading slowly with
a ghostly sun on my face
I walk a shoreline journey
to become no one