Sails fit for a ghost

I don't see the nature's angle,
I fail to dig the role of sky.
How should I ever meddle
save for that endless why?

I know not what you are thinking
but am positive you are
as the future's softly sinking
to the depths of now.

Deem do I ever my logic sensible
and the spectre I stumble upon
sighs full of sorrow "It is not edible."
and leaving me chamber it goes on

past that chasm waiting
behind the human step,
past the reasons debating
with a lonelier gait.

It was a short relationship
and when to its home it came
to ethereal furniture he was stating
"Ghosts there are down the lane."

And she woke up mornful of ardour
saying she felt a chill
and that she had dreamt of a harbour
built on our window sill.

I told her to sleep, mirage's at ease
and there are no folklores scaring the night
and all beings inside you I am to please
so hug me now and then sleep tight...

"I shall be granting you acces to morrow
as tender the doorstep knocks you unconscious.
I shall be ending the reign of your sorrow
and knowledge known as assumptions."

In less than the time she was more than still
and all that there is answered with motion.
I took in sunlight some gap to fill
and climbing our window there was -- the ocean.