“Live in the present,” they said.

With a face deeply etched by the past and,

Lit with his surrender to the future,

He smiled.

“Don’t rock the boat,” they said.

With weathered hands that had

Held a steady helm through many a storm,

He refused.

“Stick to your own kind,” they said.

With eyes as deep as the ocean,

He envisioned the solitude of the waves.

He accused.

“Keep your feet on the ground,” they said.

With legs that carried the crushing

Weight of his memories,

He left.

As the wind-filled sails

Carried him to the sunset

He knew,

The moment between the past and the future

Was too fleeting to dwell on.

The ups and downs of the tides

We’re not his to command.

There was no one like him,

And, he never cared

For the feel of sand in his boots.

He died.

Marjan Farzaad 2/24/1994