A Traveller's Tale (Part II)The horizon glimmered azure blue
The sky a cloudless pale
The wind bore gently from the east
And billowed through the sail.
The sun sparked liquid golden flecks
That flickered paths of light
Which lapped and spilled against the boat
Slipping out of sight.
Delicious warmth moulded the air
Around the wooden frame -
Driving the boat forever on
With leagues of sea to claim.
With crewless ease the chartered craft
Safely the boy did bear
Forever tacking wave-less seas
Without a fear or care.
From paradise of tropic isle
To miles of rolling sand;
From lofty mountain’s snow peaked range
To plains of lion’s land.
Every season made its entry
Bathing in unique lights –
Every season made its exit
Bequeathing new delights.
Every land that they encountered
Seemed stranger than the last
Every new entrancing moment
Took him further from his past.
Upon high, steaming mountain rocks
He spoke with learnèd men -
Unfolding to him peerless wonders
That bade him stay with them.
From there he saw a sun-baked land,
With tastes he’d longed to know
Of cummin, nutmeg, dates and olives
And silks of indigo.
But still with every season change
The boat would venture on
Relentlessly pursuing dreams
That in his head had shone.
But as the years blurred into one
The lights began to fade
As every passing glittering treasure
Was left where it was laid.
Awhile the endless painted joys,
Of the lands they passed through,
Seemed to hold a silent prison
In their watery hue.
And endless views of horizons,
Which once he’d priced as gold,
Now repulsed his every sinew
Dreams, once warm, now turned cold.
Until at last he saw no more,
Beauty before his eyes,
For topaz seas he now saw granite
Onyx for sapphire skies.
Night and day devoured each-other
Once calm seas fanned with gale;
While lands passed by which grey and dreary
The boat could not avail.
His dreams which once steered the vessel
Departing left it free
And with no drink, nor food, nor water
He weakly sank to his knees.
He fell upon his tortured charter
And with one final scream
He summoned every nerve inside him
And forced himself to dream.
Not this time for great adventure
But for home he prayed;
Not to sample unknown pleasures
But for the land he’d strayed.
At last with soul and body broken -
When dreams could come no more -
He raised his weary eyes, and blinking
A herald, white, he saw.
Poetry by Steve Hagget
Read 673 times
Written on 2006-10-10 at 10:24
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