Passing Vessels

We are as passing vessels in the night,

crossing in similar lines through

 heavy air on aged skin and weathered sails.

Absently we drift watching for stormy gales,

Ignorant of the threat; lurking

within shifting seas - a dance of arms swinging

unsteady feet, stepping back and forth

On sturdy floors on a wavering world:

In this dance we’ve have been hurled

 and stay curled,

for there we lay in parallel shapes.

Looking past the other to the water, I ask,

“Why have you come passing vessel?”

The answer is buried,

 like a capsule.

My mourning comes with your passing,

like salt it sticks to our

lips, skin, and hair;

here, where water never completes its purpose.

How is it that you pass on the surface

of the sea

unnoticed and unmoved?

If only you took notice on this course,

your fellow traveler and all you lack;

so passing vessel can you turn your back

on the sinking ship you leave behind?

Will you mourn this passing,

or be so kind

as to carry me from this fateful bind.