"Perhaps on the rare occasion pursuing the right course demands an act of piracy, piracy itself can be the right course?"
There is something seductive about the sea that beckons man to her shores. She dances, whispers, calms, and quenches the soul. She comes and goes by the pull of the Moon and kisses the beach endlessly with the mysterious intonation of a siren.
Here I sit half in and half out of the water, touched by time long passed as it marches up the beach, wave after wave, moment after moment. This water, witness to the legend of the world - having rained down on a garden named Eden, made holy by Honorius II, and fallen salty from the cheek of a crying child - now bastes my legs.
My mind is quiet, all is quiet. I am present, but not here. Completely connected and totally disengaged. In the distance a two-masted schooner, a pirate's preferred vessel, sails on the dark blue edge silently becoming one with the horizon.
As diamonds dance on the hope and faith of sapphire blue, turquoise leads us toward truth, before finally turning to champagne in celebration of the moment. Swelling and crashing, she runs, rises, and falls with Time.
I am taken by an act of piracy.