There once was a silent sailor, who sailed the seas of time.
His life was that of an abbot - no cry for wealth or wine.

To shore he raced some fishers; losing to bigger sails.
With jest they laughed at his steed: “Not worth a hair for bails.”

The boat was his life and soul. It sated his deepest need.
“She’s my queen and my lover. I’ve not a seed of greed.”

One day, as he left the harbour, he heard his rivals cry:
“You’re sailing into a squall! Cross Styx and you’ll be no Bligh!”

“Into the storm l’m headed, for now’s the time to be alive!”,
called he in triumph to the shore, with a pat on his lover’s side.

---

The storm was a torrent of darkness, far from a mellow gale;
noted the aging water dog, calm as ever though pale.

He fought for a day and a night, not leaving his queen behind,
till the last of the shivering timber gave away his final might.

For yet a day he held on, now for the sake of his life
clung to a piece of wood, in wait for a pleasant night.

He was barred from death, for after the storm had passed
came the fishers, his old friends, whom he now surpassed.

But see his might they could not, for a smirk was on their faces
“Yours was a witless plan” they said to save their cases.

“I did what I did, not to live and tell”, explained the sailor back from hell,
“but to be the man that I am, and to so die well.”

This entry was posted on Friday, July 23rd, 2004 at 22:53 and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.