Voyagers in the Mist

Gliding through the calm predawn sea
guided by dim silhouettes
and the smell of wood smoke,
they beach their boats on muffling wet sands.

Leather clad feet slip without ripples
into the final shallows of a long journey.
Held soundlessly away from their bodies:
sharp, hungry weapons.

The first to have dreamt his last
dream is the dozing sentry.
Many others are also dreaming their last
dream. Many others.