In the town where I was
born, lived a man who sailed to sea. He was a stern man, quiet with eyes like
daggers when angered, or they could glaze over as though he was sailing with
his thoughts somewhere thousands of miles away when he was bored with the conversation
at hand. I’m guessing he lived the idea of a romantic sailor’s life, you know,
a girl in every port and all that. It must have been a rich, full, colorful
life. I never got to know him much, I was just a wee lad. One day he sailed off for
some faraway destination and never returned. No one knows what happened to him.
Maybe he decided to stay in one of those glamorous ports or maybe he went down
with his ship someplace. I do remember him telling me to be careful of the ocean
and that everyone thinks it is beautiful but it can be a most unforgiving place.
I didn’t know what he meant by that until later in life. The Dao giveth and the
Dao taketh away.
