Tales of yore speak of a distant shore Forsaken by ships now evermore
One figure stands in stoic isolation Defiant of time Defiant of tide An anachronistic protestation A mute sentinel Watcher over foam flecked desolation
" The mists will part and then all shall see, that my vessels will journey back to me "
The waves, as they broach In their susurration offer a reproach " For all your watching, can you not see ? " " I have long since set your precious cargo free "
Shrouded in hope, the figure stands Outlined by starlight, on shifting sands Illuminated for all to see Except that all are heedless All but he