Sinking

This boat thinks I'm sinking indeed
into the deep cloud of unknowing
it's a floater that knew what was right
before the night and its new moon howled
in protest to the light that decreed
what could be descried from the unfreed post
at the top of the vantage where no sight
tried to penetrate the depths of water
or swim in the weeds unmanned
where the moon sleeps and unknown fishes
feed on memory's tales untold
never thinking where the boat sank
like a passage rite to no end
and found its cloudy fate
to be seed not sand