Land of a Paper Sailors Dreams

Land of a Paper Sailors Dreams 

Paper-mache folded schooner, rocking back in forth in ocean surf My little paper ship, with not much to say for its sailings worth. Riding against black waves of the nights waters, every wave a typhoon.
Words on writing lines, illuminated by the pale translucent shine of the midnight moon. Waves that go wish wash all over my papers dry paper-pulp finish! Wish wash. Wish wash, and repeat.
Washing over me.
But look, up there! They told me that the world was flat like myself, and i now know it!
I can see.. the end of it, right up there and below it Do you hear the roar of cascading phantoms? Pouring over, at this hour, the dark blue edge of the world.
And beyond that edge, where dark blue fades into the pitched dark of starlite space Singing its long distanced expanses, i can hear echos of eternities place
Diamond stone Stars twinkling in perfect positions Their values invested in heaven, and communicate all of humanities dreams, including mine.
That is my intended direction. My hopeful destination.
And if a Gods hope is at least two fold as hopeful as my own.
Than i would gander that my Paper sail would carry me in, on opal hued solar wind, through all of that space and time in-between So that i might run aground, in the land of my dreams. So that i might run aground, in the land of my dreams.

Poetic piece