Offering to the Depths
The sailor feeds the wingéd guest,
A creature lost, now laid to rest.
Not bound in chains, not held in cage,
But drawn by hand and quiet sage.
To give without demand or vow—
This is the sacred albatross now.
He reads the scroll with eyes gone wide,
Each symbol swimming like a tide.
The knowledge waits not on the mind,
But opens only to the kind.
The truth is not what one can own—
It writes itself in soul alone.
