Once a mighty clipper ship sailed high and proudupon a dark stormy sea. Beautiful as she was, there was never another ship to dare stand against her challenging sight. As the white bow would cut through the sea water, as if it were the finest edge of a cuttluss, gliding with the swiftest gale winds, not another ship could touch her. Holding at the helm was none other than an old salty sea captain, second to none was he, among all the rest. With a strange sunken look deep within his eyes, could be seen a reflection of bravery from many storms of the past. He guides her steadily through the storms of the present, holding within his heart, the keys of the past wisdom from experience. To sway to and froe upon a broken sea, yet able to ride the waves of the darkest times. Always in hope, and searching for dry land,always with a keen eye for that o'l light house. The light house in which will guide them is sometimes unseen, yet it burns out there for them. Now the clipper has full sail abloom from the fore mast to the aft mast, riding the waves from the deep troughs, to the white upper crest of the mighty waves. Sailing along thy narrow course in which was carefully plotted by the sailor, skillfully holding pole to pole, mast to yard arm. Unable to see her destination didden behind the furthest salty horizon, yet faithfully holding her course. To know this ship has gone the whole distance before, realizing his capability to guide her once again to the calm seas. Then, but only then, may the order be given for anchors down, secure the mail sail and lower the fore jibs. Till then he must hold his braveness deep, always to look foreward to what awaits him beyond that always new and mysterious horizon, always to faithfully hold that straight and narrow course.
