Ship Without Name

Ship Without A Name

Wood strains under unseen pressure,

a vessel drifting without direction or claim,

no map drawn, no voice to guide it,

only instinct and a will that refuses silence.

Sails hang heavy with gathered storms,

each thread soaked in what came before,

holding weight that cannot be shaken free,

no matter how far the journey stretches.

The horizon offers nothing in return,

just distance layered upon distance,

cold and unbroken in every direction,

a promise that never intended to be kept.

Hands once steady begin to falter,

gripping at control that was never real,

learning slowly through quiet collapse,

nothing here can truly be held.

Water rises against the hull in rhythm,

testing every weakness without mercy,

finding cracks long hidden from view,

bringing them into the open at last.

Fear moves through the body like current,

sharp, cold, impossible to ignore,

yet beneath it something steadier forms,

a quiet strength that does not retreat.

No witness marks this endless crossing,

no voice calls out from distant shores,

only the sound of movement forward,

steady, relentless, uncelebrated.

Journey continues without promise of arrival,

not driven by hope, not led by fear,

just a refusal to surrender to stillness,

and that alone becomes enough.

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