the sage

The Sage

Oran, Algeria I stood on deck as the ship docked,
on the pier an old man, tall and thin, dressed in
what appeared to be pajamas kept looking straight
at me. So penetrating was his eyes that I had to look
into the sea. I knew he was a holy man a guru, but
why was he looking at me? Was he trying to send
me a message; when I dared to look up and at him
he had vanished and I felt a sense of deep loss, had
I held out my hands met his eyes unafraid, he would
have given me his wisdom, but for my fear I spent
years in the wasteland before finding my own bitter
insight: In the sand of time all footsteps are erased,
but the hum of the seas tell me of a deep harmony,
I need not fear the tomorrow.