In the town where I was born, lived a man who sailed to sea. He was a stern man, quiet with eyes like daggers when angered, or they could glaze over as though he was sailing with his thoughts somewhere thousands of miles away when he was bored with the conversation at hand. I’m guessing he lived the idea of a romantic sailor’s life, you know, a girl in every port and all that. It must have been a rich, full, colorful life. I never got to know him much, I was just a wee lad. One day he sailed off for some faraway destination and never returned. No one knows what happened to him. Maybe he decided to stay in one of those glamorous ports or maybe he went down with his ship someplace. I do remember him telling me to be careful of the ocean and that everyone thinks it is beautiful but it can be a most unforgiving place. I didn’t know what he meant by that until later in life. The Dao giveth and the Dao taketh away.