He watched the ships as the wind took them. The dock creaked under his feet as the water pushed the ships further and further from shore, far into the open sea, to be lost from sight until eyes on some foreign shore should see them. It was a lonely sight to watch a ship vanish to nothing.
"Will you also go away?"
He had not heard her come, but there she stood with her arms wrapped around her against the chill wind that blew from the sea. She was not looking at him, but instead was gazing out at the fast shrinking ships as he had been. And she was shivering. Idly he thought that he would have liked to provide her a cloak. Had he owned one. But as it stood now he had but the clothes on his back, the shoes on his feet, one sword, and nothing to offer the shivering woman beside him. Nothing to offer. Nothing. His eyes went back to the ships.
"I think I will." One galley remained at the docks, and as he spoke those words, he decided: he
would be on it when it too vanished from sight of these shores. And then he would meet those foreign eyes with sword in hand.
"Why? Can you tell me why you are going? Do you even know yourself?" She wasn't looking at the ships anymore. He didn't look, but he knew. He could feel her staring at his face, eyes rapidly searching for a hint of an answer before he gave one. You learned to watch the eyes in his line of work.
They give away so much. He knew why he was going, and he would tell her, but she wouldn't like it. No one ever did.
"The men in those ships are going to war, and I belong with them. Peace has come to this land, so it is high time that I left it. Peace leaves no room for a man like me. I must go where I can be most useful."
"There's more to life than war, you know." He was right. She didn't like it. She didn't understand. He didn't know why he had expected anything different.
"And I suppose you would tell a master sculptor that there is more to life than marble and
granite?"
"I would expect a master sculptor to know better."
"Not if he was truly devoted to his craft. To truly be a master of anything, you must pursue it
above all else."
"But why must you leave this time, to this war? Everyone knows you're already a master of
your...craft, or whatever it is you call it."
"Any sculptor who did not pick up his tools from time to time would hardly a sculptor, would
he?"
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4 comments:
bravo! an original work, i take it?
Guilty as charged.
I couldn't help thinking of this song.
"Send Me A Song"
Take the wave now and know that you're free,
Turn your back on the land face the sea,
Face the wind now so wild and so strong,
When you think of me,
Wave to me and send me a song.
Don't look back when you reach the new shore,
Don't forget what you're leaving me for,
Don't forget when you're missing me so,
Love must never hold,
Never hold tight but let go...
Hey I thought of "Send me a Song" too! One thing I will never get a sculpter is always a sculpter, his work stands there for all to see whether he ever carves another piece. Why does war call away men like a Siren just off shore?
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