Navis Borealis

Specks of dust float aimlessly through the room,

illuminated by the sun that snakes through

each particle, lighting them up like disco balls,

luminescent, glittering like the pearls that rest

at the bottom of the ocean,

trapped inside proud oysters that won’t let them go.

The specks of dust are boats, ships,

magnificent structures of mahogany and

spinning wheels and a captain who stands

at the head of it, on a journey to the edge of the world.

Don’t try to move the dust out of your way, no,

the ships will crumble, unravel, at your hands,

and the magic shall be lost.

We follow the dust with our eyes until

it disappears into the sunlight or the moonlight

or the edge of the world.