.

In a worn out vessel

Each and every day would

Sail out in the distance,

With smile though to wrestle

To gain his livelihood,

That was his existence.

From sunrise to sundown

He gazed into the clear

Blue abyss and he sung

To take him, would he drown,

That he had not a fear

Which onto him still clung.

How the ocean returned

His promise and his faith

With each wave, with each catch!

But it had long since learned

That no mortal nor wraith

Could ever win that match.

In darkness and in gold

Ever they would conclude

No matter how ardent,

Courageous, or how bold;

All was but interlude

When Time stood guard ardant.

.

The old fisherman’s tale – I