The old man and the sea

The old man and the sea. The sea is immortal. The old man is not. As a poet, he cannot realize the ultimate dream of immortality. Hence his fascination. He compensates for this with a deep love for her…
She breathes eternally. A silver skin that never ages, a soul without a wrinkle. He, a man of flesh, of bones that creak like masts and the storm of hands scarred by rope and time. Every morning he calls her by name. Without an answer, but she sings a siren song in foam and silence. He casts his line not to catch, but to touch. To be part of her eternity for just a moment. For he knows: she will remain when he disappears. She will whisper to rowers, new dreamers, new poets. And yet, in his heart, a love that demands no answer, only the chance to sail her once more, to feel her, to lose her.