I wrote this piece 15 years ago and if I remember correctly the reason for this piece is about the relevance of dreams in our lives. Do we actually live out our dreams or do we go through a lifetime in constant dreaming? The piece is rather short, I might add, but if you read carefully it is rather deep in meaning. The character portrays all of us. His resilience to catch fish aided only by moonlight reflects how we pursue our aspirations. Written from the perspective of a casual observer, the "observer" reflects how we fail to chase our dreams, leaving everything and anything to chance.
He was like a phantom. Casting his nets from his crude boat he makes every effort to maintain a delicate balance. His nets dropped to the sea with the slightest murmur. With the moon out the waves seem to taunt him. Slow ripples carried the moon's reflection over a surreal landscape of ebony tides. Still, he stood unwavering and undaunted by the night. The stars shone with their brightest garb above him yet he hears not their offer of wayward dreams...
And so I watched this old man fish from the sea. His old and gnarled hands still delicately pulls the net from the water and deftly tucking it under his arm. It wasn't long before images of silver undulate from the waters to his boat. The sea is as stark as ever yet she rewards those who grants her patience. Silently and slowly he pulled his catch from the nets, placing them onto his reed basket.
It wasn't long before he drifted away from my vision. The moon no longer willing, the night swallowed him into her dark embrace. Under these stars he appeared like a dream. A fluid yet simple view of life. A life I once lived. Gone are my boats, my oars, and my nets. Still with me are my dreams.
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