Fishermen Sages Poem by DM W

Their long stares, towards
The blue horizon, mark them out
From the modern, aimless crowd.
They are dreamers in a dreamless world
And they dread the weight of land.
They ask the world for so little:
All they ask for is pure calm:
Small miracles of wind and wave.

Their primal philosophy
Is born from the elements;
And their gnarled hands
Evoke an ancient art.
They are more aware of greater powers
Than financiers & marketers:
Whose gods are gold and silver
Not the ultimate ground of being.

They are more aware of their human frailties
Than those from more removed, sanctified orders.
For they are forced to confront death daily,
Rather than coldly contemplate its mysteries.
They patiently cast their nets for long hours
Within & without for watery darlings.
They don'tbemoan their shoddy, rusted equipment,
But focus instead on the thriving points of the significant sea.