Great cold sailed the ocean swell Wooden planks and dinner bells Gulls above the foam and salt spray As the sun sets on another day The folly of caring, to see it rise I wake before dawn, to hear their cries. In the stillness of the night, the ship slowly lists I listen to the sails flap I listen to the story of the wind. The sea is an echo of those who have passed from this world and returned to the source from which we all came. And that is why I long for it. And therein is its very own longing.