The Gilded Sanctuary of the Unurban

I drifted long through the hollowed wake, A phantom cast from life’s cruel break. 

Beside me, shadows of the many clung, To shattered ribs where salt-mist hung, Searching the depths for a sacred lee, A silent port in a thundering sea.

Through a veil of laughing, silvered breath, A sliver bloomed, defying death— A lighthouse pulse, a golden thread, That through the ghostly currents led. 

The tides relented, soft and vast, And delivered us to land at last.

Though we arrived in garments damp and cold, Our spirits burned with a fire bold. 

We sought the glow, the hearth, the balm, Within that wood-spun, starlit calm— Where the Songbirds weave their ancient lei, Beneath the eaves of the Unurban Cafe.

In our stormy world, we all could use some 

 Safe Harbor.