When a man is broken, he is not whole. It is this void he searches to fill. Like a bucket of water with a hole, it keeps losing its fill.
Not fit for a companion, not fit to be a leader. Not bound to a certainty, not even bound at all.
There once was a man who set off to sail his boat into the sunset, leaving everything behind, but looking back smiling and waving. When the horizon disappeared, he noticed he was alone. His boat suddenly seemed so small in the vast ocean, as he looked at his hands on the helm. The water was so wide and far and seemed never to end. And when the sun sunk down, the night was dark and cold. It was those times when he heard the depths of the unknown beneath him. He could feel his mortal vessel afloat. He could sense the things greater than himself. He could find his reason for leaving less and less. And that night time darkness slowly washed him further away.
In the morning, the light of day seemed to refill his dreams, waking him up to possibilities each day to move further ahead into the unknown waters. Something about the morning's fresh breeze, whispered to him that he can keep going, keep churning the wake behind him. Sometimes even the wind in the day time was so strong it lashed his boat around, tempting to crack the hull, but the light of the sun equipped him with the energy to navigate the waves and maintain his strength. When the calm finally came, he was worn out and couldn't enjoy it. He would only fall asleep in the wheelhouse.
The sunsets in the west were his only reunion with his reason why he left in the first place. There were so many brilliant colors in a sunset, something must be at the end.
Not fit for a companion, not fit to be a leader. Not bound to a certainty, not even bound at all.
There once was a man who set off to sail his boat into the sunset, leaving everything behind, but looking back smiling and waving. When the horizon disappeared, he noticed he was alone. His boat suddenly seemed so small in the vast ocean, as he looked at his hands on the helm. The water was so wide and far and seemed never to end. And when the sun sunk down, the night was dark and cold. It was those times when he heard the depths of the unknown beneath him. He could feel his mortal vessel afloat. He could sense the things greater than himself. He could find his reason for leaving less and less. And that night time darkness slowly washed him further away.
In the morning, the light of day seemed to refill his dreams, waking him up to possibilities each day to move further ahead into the unknown waters. Something about the morning's fresh breeze, whispered to him that he can keep going, keep churning the wake behind him. Sometimes even the wind in the day time was so strong it lashed his boat around, tempting to crack the hull, but the light of the sun equipped him with the energy to navigate the waves and maintain his strength. When the calm finally came, he was worn out and couldn't enjoy it. He would only fall asleep in the wheelhouse.
The sunsets in the west were his only reunion with his reason why he left in the first place. There were so many brilliant colors in a sunset, something must be at the end.
