Upon a pastel sea of dreams half-dreamt,
Carried forth with sails of wistful mist
The poet casts forth his sparkling net
And gathers with gentle care all that was missed
From swirls of twilit clouds he takes the stars
Bright-lit gems upon which wishes hang
From curling waves he gathers, shell in hand
Glimmering pearls of tears from heartbreak's pang
With these rich treasures now, he starts his task
And weaves with silver thread of words and rhyme
A tapestry of wishes left unasked
Of half-stirred mists of want that ebb with time
The work complete, then cradled to his chest
For but a moment, before it too is cast to sea
Moonswept tide and current sweep away
The poet's tapestry of what could now not be.


Penned by my hand on the 11th of Mayan, in the year 947 AF.