My Last Sail

The sand falls low
as night envelops
my drooping bow
and eyes developed,
below the summer's starry sky
and autumn's air of nighttime sighs,
below the cold and airborne flight
of wintery banks and chilled moonlight.
The heavy darkness swings beneath
a cold embrace-
no feel,
no peace.
I buried light and withered down
beneath a blanket
covered, crown.
The warm nostalgia sunk so deep
to broken bones
and ripping steep
of little known
and little kept
and little me alone, no rest.
And yet somehow I wish I were
no more believed
but what was blurred.
I wish the luminescence crept
around my hundredth body swept
to let light out and none stay in
until the glimmer disappear.
I wish at last I was no more-
invisible,
and yet a score.
I mumble secretly at best
the reason for this soft request:
I wish at last I'd know the tale
of what's supposed of my last sail.