Strings of light

There ...
where the wind howls over dark water
I sail..
inquisition, is a heavy anchor
It docks my boat at eerie places
where the stars are held by strings of light
and ants run in their own dust
between shores
and deep waters, in far away ports, I age
chased by mobs, waving hot branding iron, I sank in me, to the core
Water never gave away it’s secret
and the far land was followed by yet another
endless routes on a perfect sphere
So I improvised
Ports, became backyard gardens
home a sailing boat,
anchored by a thought
Pursued by butterfly origamis
made of morning’s newspaper
I turned off the light
and yes, no one listens to the wind..
no one listens
no one
and my anchor was a thought forgotten with time.