So far,
Shimmering seas
Flecked with light of
Another day.
The white on blue,
Green and angry grey;
Cool tingle of wind
And foaming sea spray.
Above are white wonders,
Cable and steel,
Interrupting the breeze,
Chasing an ideal –
Onward – pounding onward –
Steadied by keel.

Though the white’s not of canvas
No romance has gone;
Nor the tree for mast
And the rope’s not of twine:
Still it’s man and the sea,
And a boat lay between –
Pounding on.

Always new horizons;
Always the same.
Only clouds and wind
And sails change.
Myriads of waves
Cleanse dirt of the mind;
The dirt of experience
Of the last land.
The hallmarks of man’s work,
Decay, dirt and dust,
Lie far over the pushpit,
Along with the persons
Whom fate introduced,
Who are now only memories,
But from whom we learnt . . .

. . . about:

Was it them or us then?
Though we know it’s us now,
For it helped us prepare
For what lay over the bow:
A moment by moment journey
Through time.