“I long to sail unknown seas and land on forbidden shores.”

                                                      Ishmael, Moby Dick

                                             Heman Melville

There are no more unknown seas.

Forbidden shores protected by jungle, mangrove swamps, and cannibals.

Now it is mines, razor wire, machineguns, and AK47s.

Oceans polluted, coral being ruthlessly murdered.

The Art of Navigation by sun, moon, stars and wind, too, is buried under the weight of technology. Charts of the cartographies’ art no longer proclaim “There be Dragons Here” No god faces blow winds from the corners. “Running your easting Down”

Fog on the Banks, roaring Bay of Fundy tides.

Lee shore, waiting in an onshore wind.

Sirians and mermaids weave their seductive melodies no more.

The sea will kill you. Fisting sleet covered canvass 200 feet up the mast in a gale. Leaning over the yardarm. Both hands for the ship, not one for you.

Port and Starboard 4 on, 4 off, your hammock swinging in a damp hold. Unless, “IT’S ALL HANDS-ON DECK!”

Rope Yarn Sundays, Make and Mend, afternoon Dog Watch.

Shantys, tale of other ships, voyages, “Old Stormy. A sea of Ghost Lights, glistening flying fish, dolphins riding the bow wave.

Salt junk, salt horse, and double baked biscuits. Knock the weevils out before eating.

Bully Mates swinging their knotted rope end “Starters”.

Nine tailed Cat with lead tips, buckets of salt water to cleanse.  A shanty sings of being “Put into bed with the Captain’s Daughter”.

Sea birds glide, south albatross on never ending voyages.

Northern lights, killing seas and ice eager for one more victim.

Green Flash on the evening Caribbean horizon.

Feeling the world awake at dawn. Fading from Nautical Twight. First pipe, fresh coffee.

Feeling her fading gently to sleep at dusk. 

Listing to the sea’s, sleeping between dusk and dawn.

Milky Way over your shoulder. Little bear chasing its tail around the North Star.

Seven Sisters, Orion, Taurus, Southern Cross.

Peaceful Soul now lost.