Sometime he’d sail away and not come back
to get lost in the spell of the sea breeze
as his weary heart to firm faith would tack.
If nowhere my humble sailing boat meandered,
would it still be possible to decipher
the rushing waves’ best-kept secrets?, he wondered,
for they’re the untiring sea messenger pigeons
that fervently heading for the blurred coast
in a frothy whisper complete their mission.
So the wet sand and the fragance it causes
are able to indefatigably unscramble
each of its noble words and silent pauses.