A legendary traveller

Beyond the endless waters
It is all a passing wind.
Beyond the calls of ferry
It is all a passing voice.

Feeling for the winds of yore
The old man glanced at the fabulous river.
Sitting under the shades
He screwed up his long beard in reflection.

And it was a silent march of decades,
A parade of seasons upon the inward eye.
And into the winds and rains of his past
He steered his ferry and memories evergreen.

Upon these banks was he born
Upon these waters, he lived a contended life.
From the age of eight to eighty-three
This river and his ferry were synonyms of life.

And across these banks
He ferried his dreams.
From early dawn till late at night
It was a tale of two hearts - waters and his splashing oars.

And, ferrying a few generations,
Upon his chest, he carried these hamlets.
And, upon these waters and winds of yore
He wrote a tale for the dales and the passing clouds.

Within the winds and the winding courses
He met life with all affections.
Beyond these hamlets, these singing waters
He steered not his ferry and dreams.

His canvas was as old as this river,
His tale on waters- seven and half decades.
Sitting on the pavement he reflected-
These hamlets, winds, and waters-
Are the roots eternal here?

Here upon these banks, and everywhere
Man is a sojourner from inn to inn.
Life is a tale of changing times,
A replantation forever.

Downstream a mile away
Hammers were already at work, a dam was rising.
The life lived here for ages
Was going to be a legacy for all coming generations.

For the living, the bread and butter was gone,
It was the waters of life forever gone.
With landscapes gone, hamlets gone,
It was all the more like a civilization was gone.

It was dusk in life and night beyond,
Roots were going to be somewhere else.
With a solatium, and a heart full of dreams
The waters were coming to an end.

Still, the old man was far from reality,
He was within his past and boatswain’s numberless calls.
There was a dam and a fading twilight-
He could not believe the approaching gale.

One day he visited the site
And his dreams steadily melted away.
Within reality, he silently wept,
Within reality, he accepted the truth.

Hamlets were already moving upstream,
Upon shoulders rested the logs and planks.
There – in front of his age-old court-yard
He sat looking at the disappearing scenes.

Wooden walls began to creek
The rusty roof opened to the sun and howling winds.
Inch by inch the foundations were gone,
By and by a living monument was gone.

And it was time to leave his hamlet,
It was time he woke up from the dreams.
And listening to the waters of yore
He slowly descended the steps.

Down the pavements, he stoppeth for a moment,
Casts his eyes homeward – all a written-off tale now.
And within a note of deepening silence
He casts a farewell glance upon the ageless landscape
And leaves off the banks as a legendary traveler.

Beyond the endless splash
It is all an open sky.
Beyond the calls of a boatswain
It is all a tale told to the passing winds.
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