Tuesday, January 17, 2006

The Sailor

There were a 100 sailors
Looking new and peachy clean
In their caps and hoods
About to go a-sailing

Each one thinking of his journey
Wondering in which direction to set sail
Wondering where the wind was blowing
Where is the easy sailing

There stood one man in that crowd, young for his age
Not wondering where the wind was blowing
Looking at the sun on the horizon
Knowing where he wanted to go

The sailors set off
All in his own direction
The undecided following another bunch
None knowing where the wind was pushing them

They who were pushed by the wind
In the wake of the boats ahead
Sailed around mindlessly
Seemingly enjoying themselves

The young sailor set off
In the opposite direction to the wind
The wind, she beared down on his little craft
But the sun guiding him...

He pushed ahead, enjoying the strain
Enjoying the thought of reaching that island on the horizon
He pushed against the wind
Didnt hear the other sailors laughing at him

He reached his island
Throwing himself on the sand
The other sailors wondering why...
The young sailor feeling the sand

And then the storm came wrecking everything in its path
Every sailor tossed like a dice
All those whom the wind was helping
Dying...just like our young friend

The storm subsided,every sailor in his watery grave
The easy sailors lying in the water, still in the harbour
As the young boy breathed his last
He smiled, for he carried the sand in his hand.

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