A Rudderless Dance

Atop the vagrant waters bouncing from one wave to another peering through the telescope, no shore in sight, his limbs are quivering his throat is parched. The amber sky is coercing him to give into slumber, roam about in grasslands and pools, breathe in the cool, crisp air and shun the rest. The topsails are a mess of tangled ropes and flapping canvas, the sea is topsy-turvy and the floor is creaking. Suddenly a gush of wind breaks his stupor, his gaze falls upon a grove, he is skeptical that he is imagining it and rubs his eyes. Is mother nature playing with him once again, is the universe making him dance to its tunes, what's beyond the tree line he ponders. Ecstatically he tries to maneuver, oblivious to ship to shore distance, he is ready to plunge if the ship won't move. What if theres no pool, no puddle or no water fall to quench his thirst? Should he gamble? his emotions are taking control and the heart has its reasons. He is craving to touch the land and sink his feet in the sand.

He gets down, runs past the trees, the terrain is rocky he knows he is draining himself for that one little drop of elixir. The past has schooled him numerous times but his eccentricity can go too far, hours went by but there was no water to be found, subliminally he knew that he won't find what he is looking for. The island has a seductive attraction, he wishes for a miracle and has no strength to journey on, he is captivated by her beauty and her grace and rests in her arms. He opens his eyes and her radiance is all upon him, the morning synergizes with him to continue and not give up. The island was unaware of his presence and was unforgiving, he was all dried out but wanted to stay in hope for the rains. Unwillingly he strolls towards his ship and looks back at the island for one final dalliance with her. With each step he wonders what will happen to him, he dreads the future. 

The mid-day was quiet, his spirit broken and no defined path to pursue. The ship was his only companion which slowly was leaving the island behind. He was blistered and sickly and was angry at the creation itself. He blamed his destiny for fruitless encounters, and still wanted to go back to her. Time goes by and the tides are shifting becoming angry, ready to jolt him, sway his ship here and there. He cares not whether he goes forwards or backwards anymore, and blames the universe for setting up such unfathomable waters. His polemic tone is relatable, societal mores often tend to baffle him. Wishful thinking is running its course and he continues to dance to the capricious tunes.

His limerance was obvious!!