Poetry: "Promise of the Mist" - Style Trial

Standing at the bow,
I survey the scene.
wind whips my face,
whips the sails above,
tugs the pair of us on
into the spinning sun.

The prow cuts a wake,
to either side divided,
the sea of time splashes
outward, away, spraying
a taunting mist upon me
as I speed onward.

The flavor of the future, ----- My seamanship fails,
carried on that wind, ----- I thought I could slow;
tasting so sweet, ----- ballast of deception,
no bitterness of salt; ----- adds only momentum
this sea's long horizon ----- to the headlong rush
is endless possibility. ----- toward grayed out shores.

Leaning off the boat, ----- The inevitable impact,
I watch the rush below, ----- stretches the seconds
the bright sun flashing ----- as rocky shores approach;
off rolling waves that rise ----- safety is near, I know,
flickering in the sunlight, ----- somewhere to make berth,
like flags in the breeze ----- but this ship is doomed,
my spirit, too, rises. ----- its path is chosen.

Furled sails drop the wind; ----- These wooden walls,
gracefully the vessel glides ----- these canvas sails,
turning to chase the coast; ----- they are not me, the ship
a paradise unfolds to fore, ----- may die while I survive;
the whispered promise ----- a leap of faith, into the blue,
of the mist, of the past. ----- the desperate swim begins.

I slip into the waves,
a ghost's dim silhouette
immersed in liquid moments,
I labor in its viscosity,
struggling to progress;
time's currents move relentless.

Seconds, hours, years pass by,
and yet I swim for shore;
when at last I come to ground,
I stare about in wonder,
it's everything I dreamed.
Yet contentment roils
with bitter irony and loss:

For on the beach there beside me
my ship washed up,
and the very sand seems to swell
around it's base, the land
holding it tight in utopian embrace;
the way I sought to escape,
led to all I hoped.