Ramblings of a Captain

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
My mind, running in its own groove, as I imagine the life of someone else

Submitted: May 24, 2007

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Submitted: May 24, 2007

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Sun, surf, sea, sea, surf, sun. Wondrous glorifying light, reflection of the purest, purifying, gratifying, inconsistent, yet so faithful. Calling forth the smile, the joyous whistle of a man not tamed. Free and at large, all in all, but also leashed. Leashed to the sea, to her whiles and whims. Leashed to this life, this fabulous life, how can a man not come back to it? Again and again. The hustle, bustle, scurry and fuss. The men keeping their home ship shape, as can be said in these days. A ship of the line, her majesty's pride and the men who serve. In her majesty's pride royal navy. We the men of this glorious establishment, featured in generations of us, exalt in the sea, exalt in what is known. Or even in the unknown of this beautific scene, life, call it what you will. And in this wondrous feeling, the soaring of waves, wind in the air. The salty, spray taste. Soothing, yet searing, sorely missed when on land. These sea rats belong. These scurvy dogs, sons of mothers that have names, not oft called forth in normal circumstances. Words so harsh on normal ears, landlubber's ears.Screaming gulls, searching, vying for food, for scraps left by these men. The symbiotic relationship. Men giving food and gulls, giving men hope. Of land, safety, time to relax. When the work is done. Other companions are there as well. The dolphins surfing the wave, flipping, flirting, fun. What an awesome sight, these creatures, made by our Lord and Saviour. These men so oft accused of being waste, the worse side of the human species, have a better understanding of God. In their closeness to this higher power.  They have more understanding than the clergymen of this day and age. Screaming, swearing, accusing that which is none and none can be proclaimed. And when the light fades and the darkness surrounds, the sounds that can be heard, tickle your ears, unleashing the imagination, running free, chasing herding, and then letting go. Man thinks a lot, in times of idleness, man thinks of his or hers. Not that there are any hers available here. A woman on a ship, unthinkable, a warship is not the place for the fairer race. The petiteness, politeness, frailness. Unthinkable that such a perfect, porcelain type creature would be able to survive the sea. This beautiful woman, but yet also unruly beast. It can not be predicted,  harnessed, directed. It follows her own whims. What she does and why, is such unanswerable questions, that musing on them, might just drive a man over the edge. Mind gone, gone to the sea and so his body can be too. Done for, in an instant, a moment. Man overboard, hopefully it’s a quiet day, calm seas, high visibility. These are the times men can be rescued, but how will a man go overboard in these conditions. No, men disappear in these times that will not ever, be heard of again. Alas another man gone, but now to the sea our attention goes. Man forgotten, to be mourned another day. Comrades, friends and brothers, they come and go. Like the sea, like the surf. The unsteady, unpredictable flow. Flow of life, love and everything else. Unpredictable, but that is what makes life. The spice of life is such. What would be the fun, if you knew how your whole life would go. No, this life is perfect in its entity, entirety. And now back to the sea I go, back to the work, the play and maybe to my death. What does it matter? I live without regret.


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