Metamorphosis

This is the time of my final transmutation. Time to forsake the conventions of land for the wild anarchy of the seas. Time for the sanctification and restoration of my soul. I have taken inventory of my needs; the sturdy Bayfield beneath my feet, its white sails full of wind, clothes, tools to calm the cantankerous Yanmar, and of course the guitar; for what would the sailor be without a song? No land ties will tether and torture this wandering spirit; this rising Phoenix from the ashes of quiet desperation. This is the beginning, the confluence of the experiential life and life's latent desires. The capstone of life.