The farthest you see from your lone deck,
The cradling piece of wood on waves,
Of no shore, no land but waters,
The sailor you are on a voyage, which craves,
New routes? New lands? New world?
What makes you sail?
When the white gulls scream, dives the whale,
When the star lit nights guide you,
And scorches the ever burning sun,
When far from home for months you go,
With men of downing hearts to know,
When the curtains of sky weep,
Or the thunders make an ephemeral peep,
When the winds play with your mast,
And sing a lullaby of endless sleep so fast,
Do you fear death as you do failure?
To go unheeded like the long lost Atlantis,
Or you be the herald of undying valor,
For the history to pen down in golden glitter,
Do you be the Vasco-de-Gama of waves and water?
Sink?......... No.
