Tradition.

Tradition

When evening falls upon the shore
You smell the salt, and hear the roar
Of surf that breaks in spumes against the reef.
The sun is low, the breeze is cool
The waters hiss, the seagulls call,
The sand is warm and gritty soft beneath your feet
You draw a breath, and close your eyes
And raise your face and clench your teeth
And feel your spirit spread its golden wings and soar
How good is calm
The calm of peace
How good is life
The all in all
And yet you know, one day
A storm will come
and sweep it all away.

Granland

"Unbending intent and impeccability of spirit"