nor when.
He simply tends to that which
requires his attention.
He mentions not the beastly waves,
nor days he feared
he lost his way.
A quiet soul out in the
vast ocean--
not a sight to behold
but the ship his task is to control.
Immeasurable crests of blue.
Specks of gold.
Alone,
amidst the cunning sea,
he lives a dream.
For all the angry storms,
pitch-black nights he has seen...
and survived,
he trusts the sea that has gifted him sight.
What he knows?
He's free.
-Jayme
