where ships go to die

into the west the schooner sails,
away the gull, away my heart.
beyond all hope of silent moon,
the stars alight on minstrel's tune.

they dance amid celestial joy;
they sing out into the void.
shining bright, piercing the night,
on minstrel's tune, the stars alight.

harvest moon tracks restless sea,
it's every ripple, wave and plea.
within the plunging depths below,
untold mysteries remain unknown.

a cloak of fog enshrouds the ship.
strange noises whisper, here and there.
voices of memory rise and fall
as schooner sails into the pall.

the morning greets the sun anew,
much to the joy of schooner's crew.
they had sailed into the west
and now they've found their final rest.

24 September 2008 by Glen Alan Woods