This Old Man and the Sea
Last night, she was as I had feared:
Dark, mysterious, and perturbed.
And although the moonlight tried to soften her monstrousity,
I was unaffected, unmoved by the lunar distraction
And I was focused alone on her ice cold danger.
But this early morning,
At an hour when I am usually freshly kissed by slumber
I climb the ship’s highest tower
And in a fading darkness glance at Poseidon’s playground.
As I stood on a dimly-lit damp deck, danger still came to mind:
The wind will blow me to the sea and gigantic tentacles will drag me into the abyss.
As the darkness of the night sky transitioned
Into the gentle lights of dawn, I see her more
And oh so differently than before.
She seems gentle, she seems kind
She seems one with the tranquil bliss this new day provides.
I am gifted with the sight of daybreak, and of an approaching land only my lips have touched before.
Now my feet will be in contact and hopefully my lips, as well.
161007 | 0619
As I float on the Pacific Ocean
The verses above started silently dancing in my head when I woke up at 4 AM, and could not sleep anymore on my cruise cabin bunk. I got up, went to the ship’s library, and eventually ended-up on the ship’s top deck, where in the darkness, I wanted to bravely experience a sight of the scary ocean again, and in the light, see her beauty. In that silent morning, I received a gift of inner peace no verses could ever capture.