By David Roth
© 16 October, 2003
A cool, crisp breeze presses steadily against my back.
It drives me, yet without purpose or destination,
Free from promise or complication.
It simply is.
And the buffeting of the tall mast of canvas
Is really the only thing that remains to remind me
That there are forces left in this world
That even I, with the technology at hand,
Can neither predict nor control.
I simply take pleasure in its being,
And I sail.
I have no course in mind,
No ultimate objective or motive.
That would defeat it, wouldn’t it?
No, instead, I just sail.
The ever changing sea
Awash with life and majesty below,
The sky, in richest hues of blue and white
Dotted here and there with cotton balls of hilarity,
And the impractically thin sliver of wood.
Propelled through the swells and valleys
By an unseen force against rough wove skin,
That keeps me from them both.
I know that the ball of fire overhead
Rises in the east,
And that the intoxicating blanket of diamonds
Dancing whimsically against the ebony stage
Welcomes the coming dawn.
The radiant twin smiles down on me
Only to take its leave in the path of the setting sun
And the never ending sea.
These are my only constants.
So, I sail.
Nor, do I either care, or give thought to how, why, or where.
The wind is at my back
The ocean, vast in its expanse
Slips silently below.
The sky in all its beauty,
Hangs as a dome of protection above.
Life surrounds me.
Life, and loneliness.
But then,
This is, after all, why I sail.
To leave behind the very remembrance
Of the hurt, and the pain, and the one who caused it.
Alone, unhindered and unimpeded
Perhaps for the first time
I sail.
