A wee bit of romance…
Though you linger & stand but in one spot on the riverbank, you can’t stop the flow of the river of time, forward rushing one moment, lazily lollygagging the next, but ever onward marching towards the sea of eternity. The memories which we long for are like droplets of water which mix with others such that we can barely recognize them.
If we try to remain in one spot, to stand firm on the past, both the refreshing cool splashes of joy & the tumultuous whirlpools of storm driven memories will flow right past us, leaving us behind. We must be unafraid to drift along the waters of life, to sail on smooth ones, raft over the rapids, & navigate unknown nautica to our intended destination before we yet set out again.
The person who is afraid of the water will never be seaworthy. And yes, it takes a skillful sailor to ride the waves to paradise & back.
Each tear that falls swells the river. Each breath we exhale breathes life into our sails. And every time we jump overboard & try to swim ashore against the current we lose a little momentum. Flow along with the river of your life, for ports await that contain provisions, sustenance, nurture, & yes, even love.
Or stay on the riverbank & watch the real captains take charge of their souls as they ably steer their ships. An anchor is intended only as a temporary respite.
The shore is a place where boys linger to daydream, or defeated souls languish in defeat. Real men want to feel the wind in their hair, the salt spray in their face, & the touch of their lover, the sea, for it is there in the deep waters that the mermaids frolic, & the siren’s song can be heard.
He put down the book as he glanced at the clouds which were pregnant with the precipitation which held the combined power to add enough water to help carry him through. He inhaled deeply as he climbed into the boat he’d lovingly constructed & polished with his own hands. He’d experience enough to know that one cannot catch up to one’s past after it has passed one by. Nor did he want to sit idly by to see what debris the aftermath of the next storm might float his way.
His was the heart of a true sailor. Though the siren might call his name, he’d not die in a crash upon the rocks where destiny waited. No, he’d ride the tide all the way to the horizon, & sail off into a multicolored sunset. He knew he’d find her there.
For she, like him, possessed a joi de vivre that compelled her to travel along, rather than be trod upon. She was a lady, a pioneer, a traveler, a lover of life, her own soul, & his.
He dipped his oar into the water as he pushed off & away from the crumbling riverbank of a port to which he felt an uncomfortable sense of unbelonging. Another stroke, & he felt a small lurch which sent adrenaline through his veins, as the current began to assist him in his journey towards her. He couldn’t wait to get there, to that place where they would exist together in perfect tranquility & drink in the light of the stars on each other’s eyes.
Though he knew it would require much hard work, he was determined to outpace his past. Time was flowing, life was knowing, & he was going, to just where he needed to be.
And she waited patiently there in paradise, longing for her sailor to come home from the sea. For she’d already traversed those turbulent waters, & she was at peace with herself, & quite confident that what was meant to be could not escape their destiny.
Though the storms might buffet his tiny boat, he’d skillfully slip the shoals, for there was nothing on earth to stop a real man from following his heart- no, not even the fear of drowning.
The only thing he intended to drown in was the taste of her kisses once he found her. His heart beat faster with each effort by his lean, muscular body, & though she was daydreaming upon cotton candy clouds, suddenly she felt her own breath quicken. She saw two clouds suddenly come together in roughly the shape of a heart, & she rejoiced, knowing that his arrival was imminent. And she couldn’t wait until the moment that they could begin to dream together!
For a mutual dream is always far better than trying to go it alone. ‘Row faster!’ she whispered into the breeze. And as if he had heard her words, he did just that.
– Lou Lehman Sams