spindrift

late in the eighties my soul was spent in small comforts and distractions, in late nites carrousing and long hard days of labor. I longed to run away to sea and contemplate the swell and current in terms of millennia instead of the more immediate requirements of trade and service. i meant to rest in the lap of annonymity that is life upon a small boat: between landfall and perdition, and i dreamed of becoming ephemeral like the foam upon the waves.

when I sobered up there were other, much more compelling opportunities to choose from and i chose to come home to Hawaii instead. i can hear the sea at night: the waves break on a reef a mile or so to windward and their rhythm satisfies that calling and i can taste the ocean on the breeze.

i feel i'm still at sea but it's always been home to me.

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Saturday, November 10, 2001