The Captain

The captain stood stoic upon the bow of the ship, looking down.

“Cap’n, land ho, portside.”

“Do not change course.”

“Where are we headed, Cap’n?”

“Lighthouses, I found them very calming, almost a saving grace. Like a hot stew, cooking on a stove. The stench of the land which you call home, caring, loving, never forgetting. I have longed for that light, to see it off was devastating.”

“Where are we headed, Cap’n?”

“Lighthouses, I found them very guiding, almost a sure bet. Like a hunting falcon, perched upon your shoulder. So reassuring that I will follow its tail-feather ‘till we have circled the world. I have longed for that light, to see it off was devastating.”

“Where are we headed, Cap’n?”

“Lighthouses, I found them very forcing, almost a strong storm. Like a built tower at the back of your head, aching to be released. Better than settling with nothing, but they offer you so much more than nothing. I have longed for that light, to see it off was devastating.”

“Where are we headed, Cap’n?”

“To find lighthouses.”

The captain stood stoic upon the bow of the ship, looking down to look up.