The poets are always called to the sea,
to the spray of the brine on the rocks,
to where the waves scrape foam from the sky
and the gulls guard the grey outcrops.
The artists are called to the ribbon
that joins the waters and skies;
to the sand-paved paths of the sirens
and the void where the albatross flies.
The sailors are called to the Nereid’s realm,
the eternal expanse of the waves:.
where moon and star are candle and lamp,
where mermaidens sing in their caves.
The children are called to the sea shores,
to find fallen stars amongst shells,
to collect the driftwood and wreckage
and to hear the ghost-ships’ bells.