Dream Voyage

Iain Johnston, Calderbank

Enshrouded in the coils of sleep, Whirling down a tideless stream I see the surging vasty deep, Bound forever by a seaborne dream.

I hear the rhythmic sound of oars, The splash of wet salt spray. The glimpse of mist-bound shores, The sound of waves at break of day.

I smell the mystic tang of sea, Beneath my feet a stout keel. For the sky is blue and the ocean is free, Home to dolphin and silver seal.

To voyage with a roguish crew, With breeze-blown sail aloft. A dream dreamt of by but few, Not for me lonely glen or croft.

To leap ashore on virgin sand, Some new untrodden soil While the crew, that happy band, Ship oars and rest from toil.

Exploring cities in a foreign clime, Moss-covered steps of ancient stone. Worn by the sandalled feet of time, To stand in those silent streets alone.

To Thule and far Hyperborea I would go Where lofty ice-clasped mountains soar. Eternally cloaked in fog and snow, Beyond the maelstrom and Kraken’s roar.

Green-isled Atlantis and Antillian strands, Finned sea maidens sing on a golden beach. In those fair and fortunate lands, That only the dream bound sailor can reach.

I sleep in the warm embrace of Circe, Far from any mortal care. My earthbound soul at last set free, Lulled by her charms, so sweet, so fair.

I list to the siren’s compelling song, The white-winged gulls cry. Far from the shore where Cyclops throng, I’m lured by the call of the lorelei.

Then I awake to life’s dreary round, The dream has fled, the vision fades. I hear bird call, traffic sound, I am left with memories, but passing shades.