The Busselton Mariner (With Apologies to S. T. Coleridge)

A chance encounter with a wizened seaman on a street in Busselton, Western Australia, turned an average day into an epiphany for the pearl divers of old Broome.

In Busselton, where gentle waves embrace the tranquil shore,
My love and I, beneath the sun, walked out to explore.
Upon my back, a shirt did show a scene of pearling lore,
A lugger 'neath a moonlit glow, from Broome's famed days of yore.

When suddenly, upon our path, appeared an aged seer,
His hair like sea-foam in the wind, his eyes both clear and sheer.
With sticks in hand, he steadied stance, and beckoned us to hear,
Of pearls sought in the ocean's expanse, and of the divers' fear.

"A lugger in the moon's embrace," the old mariner began,
“Recalls a time, a perilous space, where vanity led the clan.
For pearls, like moonlight trapped in tears, we plunged into the night,
Defying depths, embracing fears, for beauty's fleeting sight."

His eyes, like lanterns in the mist, lit with the tales of yore,
Of divers in the ocean's fist, and what they braved it for.
"The sea, she holds her treasures dear, in shadows deep and cold,
Where men, seduced by beauty clear, their souls to danger sold."

"In waters deep, where silence reigns, and darkness veils the world,
Each diver, with his hopes in chains, to Neptune's realm is hurled.
They sought the gleam, the pearl's pure light, 'neath waves of endless blue,
A dance with death, from morning bright till evening's dusky hue."

"No tempest, nor the cannon's roar, could stay the diver's hand,
Nor whispers of the ocean's floor, that ghostly, sunken land.
Yet, vanity, like sirens' call, through ages does resound,
For beauty, men would risk it all, in depths where fate is bound."

So spoke he, by the silent shore, his words a woven spell,
Of human lust for evermore, and of the deep's cold well.
"In Busselton, beneath the moon, your shirt did tales unfurl,
Of pearls that hold the morning's bloom, within their graceful swirl."

"Remember this," he softly said, "the lessons of the sea,
Where countless lives and dreams are shed, for fleeting finery.
The pearls we seek, in ocean's hold, are mirrors of our greed,
A lustrous shell, an empty soul, on vanity we feed."

He turned to go, ever so old, his gaze still sharp and bright,
"Let not the pearls' alluring gold eclipse our moral sight.
For in the quest for treasures rare, 'neath waves of foam and fear,
The greatest pearl beyond compare, is having loved ones near."