Ship of Fools

Beneath the slumbering ebony sky,
The sleepwalker languidly shuffles,
Their path winding down a steep descent
From the long-bladed grasslands
Into the dense, wiry scrub of the beach headlands.

The sound of the crashing shore below beckons.
The dark emerald Ocean of Dreaming glistens,
Starlight shimmering upon its surface,
White-crowned waves roll through the darkness
Before breaking upon powdery sands.

At journey’s end, the winding path delivers
The sleepwalker to the glistening beach,
Where grains of sand sparkle like diamonds
Beneath the pale moonlight.

There they sit, empty-eyed and motionless,
Gazing out across the sea.

Waiting. Summoning. The Ship of Fools.

A captainless vessel,
Crewed by the mad and dysfunctional,
Lost souls adrift upon memory and desire,
Blindly navigating the dreamlands.

Far beyond the breakers,
A lantern flickers.
Then another.
Then another.

Ghostly lights dancing upon the horizon.
The sleepwalker rises.

For tonight, the ship seems closer.

Its shadowed hull emerges from the darkness,
Ancient sails hanging motionless,
Black against the stars.

No voices call from the deck.
No welcome is offered.

Yet still they walk forward.

The cold surf washes over their feet,
Then their knees,
Then their waist.

With every step the vessel drifts farther away,
Always beyond reach,
Always waiting,
Always calling.

Beneath the moon, the emerald waters glow.
Their depths churn with silent movement,
Dark shapes turning far below.

Still the sleepwalker follows,
Believing the next step will bring them aboard,
Believing the next wave will carry them to the ship.

Believing. Believing.

Until the sea closes over their head.
The lanterns vanish.
The ship dissolves into mist.

And far away, beneath the waking sun,
A body washes ashore upon an empty beach.

While somewhere beyond the veil of dreaming,
Another pale figure wanders the shoreline,
Waiting beside the Ocean of Dreams,
For the Ship of Fools.