You

You aren't my moon,
To reflect everything I bestow upon you
In the dark.
You are my mirror.
Letting the real me show up,
Hiding no flaw nor a mark.

You aren't the wind,
That blows me away,
Or makes it difficult to stand.
You are the breeze
That does me cool keep,
And plays with looser hair strands.

You aren't a dream,
That is gone once seen.
Or right there, and not in my hand.
You are the truth,
Though surreal and crude,
Unbelievable and beautifully unplanned.

You aren't a place
That I go to to hide,
Where someone me might follow.
You are this journey,
That is us, that is me,
And mine, today and tomorrow.

The Ship

A ship then sailed
A twilight then rang.
They trusted in the winds
And downed rains unplanned
A lust for treasures known
And never truly had.
A darkness they misused
Disguised and hid their tracks.
They moved through the waters
Slowly and with vigour
Cautiously placed each finger
Mayhem silent and thicker.
The wind took them in its hand
And decided to play a game.
They held on for the love of God.
Distinctly kept calling out His name.
The mist now fogs the view.
Direction and time,both lost out.
They wait and wait to strike again.
There blows just a tiny seed of doubt.