Sojourn

Thoughts parcelled for voyages
across unthinking seas
must go labeled with tags of passion.

Seas are known to be heartlessly cold,
worshipping only the pulse
of an uncaring moon.

Anchored hearts, like waves,
rise and fall
as slaves to love and hate.

When destiny calls from carefree shores,
parcelled thoughts end up
on frameless hearts that know
the hope of love
and the curse of hate.