A sailor sails across seas,
landing onto an island at dark,
one with no folk, dead or alive,
and not a thing of harm,
fully formed of sand,
as if the largest beach,
stranded was he,
As he walked and walked,
now, without his sailor clothes,
as to conform,
and yet,
all when asked by
the dead white rocks,
all he stood as,
was the man of seas,
or the sailor as he was proud to call,
and thus, after a long wait of desire,
travelling across this wasteland,
running with his feet sunk deep
into the sands.
He comes across a lighthouse,
a hospital,
and a nurse,
as her apparel suggested,
unlike her bearing,
and thus he stood,
bare-clothed,
as he was born,
but in his soul,
As he was always born,
and she too,
as one she never was;
and thus the two met,
A sailor and the nurse.
Thus, something followed,
a breath of life,
but not as harrowing as either's sight,
year after year,
the nurse took out his eyes,
and sent him back to the shore,
expecting him to come back,
as he always did,
finding a way back,
and then once again,
she gave him eyes,
and on one fine Saturday,
she gave him clothes,
and back his eyes,
the refusal was in contrast,
but much loved,
by the lady,
and as then,
she opened those doors
for the first time,
and let him in.
The man, now blind,
and unclothed,
unlike her sight,
must be wondered,
as rightfully the sailor did,
if this was a dream,
or someone he shall never see,
and then, they lay along,
as she pressed him on,
and fought back on,
against his back, and
right at the patient's bed.
They laughed, they cheered,
of joy, of laughter, and
screamed of tears,
what must that be,
whether by disgrace or fortune,
was there no one to decipher.
And thus, that was the nurse's final day,
at last, the man lay there, whether forever,
or just as the first choice of this
cycle of fear,
blinded and alone,
but always, or not anymore,
as what he once was,
but for now,
all that was left,
without the nurse,
was a Sailor and his past.
May 8
May 8, 2026 at 1:37 PM UTC
A sailor sails across seas,
landing onto an island at dark,
one with no folk, dead or alive,
and not a thing of harm,
fully formed of sand,
as if the largest beach,
stranded was he,
As he walked and walked,
now, without his sailor clothes,
as to conform,
and yet,
all when asked by
the dead white rocks,
all he stood as,
was the man of seas,
or the sailor as he was proud to call,
and thus, after a long wait of desire,
travelling across this wasteland,
running with his feet sunk deep
into the sands.
He comes across a lighthouse,
a hospital,
and a nurse,
as her apparel suggested,
unlike her bearing,
and thus he stood,
bare-clothed,
as he was born,
but in his soul,
As he was always born,
and she too,
as one she never was;
and thus the two met,
A sailor and the nurse.
Thus, something followed,
a breath of life,
but not as harrowing as either's sight,
year after year,
the nurse took out his eyes,
and sent him back to the shore,
expecting him to come back,
as he always did,
finding a way back,
and then once again,
she gave him eyes,
and on one fine Saturday,
she gave him clothes,
and back his eyes,
the refusal was in contrast,
but much loved,
by the lady,
and as then,
she opened those doors
for the first time,
and let him in.
The man, now blind,
and unclothed,
unlike her sight,
must be wondered,
as rightfully the sailor did,
if this was a dream,
or someone he shall never see,
and then, they lay along,
as she pressed him on,
and fought back on,
against his back, and
right at the patient's bed.
They laughed, they cheered,
of joy, of laughter, and
screamed of tears,
what must that be,
whether by disgrace or fortune,
was there no one to decipher.
And thus, that was the nurse's final day,
at last, the man lay there, whether forever,
or just as the first choice of this
cycle of fear,
blinded and alone,
but always, or not anymore,
as what he once was,
but for now,
all that was left,
without the nurse,
was a Sailor and his past.
