Never have they been able to resist
With soft coos of ocean gulls reverberating recklessly
The depths do inevitably insist
Such sailors lead life upon the stirring seas
Gritty wind at their backs
Through bouts of calm and shouts of war
Through emptiness, attacks
Living was best withing the walling waves
And land was like a tomb
Flat and one-dimensional
Nothing like the rocking white-cap blooms
No longer are there mighty oak hulls
Or pale sails to maintain
But within the iron frames and steel shells
The sailing spirit remains
Perils are intensified for tales of old
Such things, perhaps, are no less now
Though no chest of gold awaits
Purpose still flows over the bow
No raging monsters stir from coral crevices
Most sirens dwell inland
But still the silently sloshing depths do beckon
To the hearts of every sailing man"
A little something I wrote for some friends a while ago. And while these photos are of a lake and not the ocean, I felt this would perhaps help to illustrate and entertain.
The lake is one of my favorite placed to be. Whether I'm sitting in the bow at the mercy of wave-spray and musty , or settled cozy in the rear beside the roaring engine, feeling the subtle warmth it emits as its power shoots us gleefully across the water's surface, I am always content.
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