“Have you ever seen the sea, Lad?” Asked Old Greybeard.
“No, I have not.” The boy admitted.
The elder sighed. “Indeed.”
Between solid ground
And the endless deep
My toes clutch to faith
Slick, wet, hard to keep
But the sharp sea air
Stirs my ebbing grit
Nature’s smelling salts
For a tired old spirit
And breath is new life
That fills my dim cells
And raises me up
From low-down swells
The spray on my face
Blasts away the tears
The crashing of waves
Banishes my fears
“You rhymed!” Young Jack exclaimed.
“Sometimes private thoughts are better said that way.” Greybeard chuckled.
“Have you seen the sea, Grandpa?”
My eyes have no sight
But I feel the sea
I smell, taste, hear, breathe
In full reverie
“But why are you telling me this?” asked Jack.
“Listen carefully, Boy.” Greybeard rumbled.
I feel your sadness
Like rocks on my feet
It stops me rising
From my easy seat
Though I can’t with eyes
My heart sees richly
Bright colour and light
Scenes so lovely
It’s a love affair
A dream, a rainbow
A salve for despair
A pledge for tomorrow
It is straight up hope
That gives us the fight
So find your wish, child
Hold it close and tight
Old Greybeard sighed and placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder.