The No Ones

The times of day: The morning by Caspar David Friedrich

We are the no ones
from the land of lost,
Who hold the sand
slipping through at invisible costs.

We lose our dreams
in the shadows of the moon,
And flow through the silent night
in riverbeds of misty gloom.

We are the ones
without homelands to return,
For we are the banished ones
deprived of the tides to yearn.

We sew our shattered hopes
in feathers and silk,
Only to be blown apart
by the faceless ilk.

We wander in the places
hidden in the plain sight,
Staring in the untouched void
for a speck somewhere, glaring bright.