The crew read the heavens above as a chart 
and below the barely moving moonlit waves.
Some poets take up their pens to write.
Seasoned wood and strong ropes creak in the hush
and SPLASH- a young lad meets the ocean.
But why?

He believed the heavens to be more than a chart
and he proved himself the ocean is deep.
Afraid the bards had festered, he would only go
his own way.

Now I am old and unlikely
I haul myself back like any tar.
A huge moon dips and silvers the seas
and I take up my pen to write.