Dassee lay on the deck of gur shabdee, eyes closed, her face upturned towards warm ONE sun lazily murmuring waheguru waheguru waheguru. Dropping one hand over the side she let her fingers trail idly in the cool sea. Drifting peacefully, the little craft rocked rhythmically, gently rolling with the swells, the sails billowing gracefully in the soft breeze.

Something caught between her fingers and lifting them to see, she discovered a single red petal therein. She again dipped her hand to find there were many such rent blossoms now floating about on the Sea. An oily fragrant trace of sandal wood essence skimmed along the waters surface and clung to her fingers scenting them.

Opening her eyes, She lifted her head and propped herself up on one elbow to get a good look. Hundreds if not thousands of coloured petals floated in the drifts along the currents, in amoung the golden brown kelp heads bobbing in the sparkling water. They must be nearing land she surmised. She noticed an object glittering as though it was reflecting the sun. It appeared to be some sort of bottle tangled in the kelp fronds. Carefully she leaned out and stretching as far as she could with out falling over board she just managed to reach it and closed her fingers around its neck. She clutched the prize tightly while pulling her self safely back on deck. Although it was glass, the bottle was no longer clear, it sides glazed and grazed with age and wear had become translucent it’s colour uncertain, but it looked as if there were something inside. Curiously she pried at the worn cork stopper stuck in it’s neck, twisting turning and pulling until it gave and slid out with a dull pop. Turning it upside down, she tapped the bottom, but nothing came out, so she held it aloft and peered through its mouth into it’s dark interior. Yes, something was wedged in there all right. She poked a finger inside tentatively and felt parchment. Reluctant to have to break the bottle, to get at its contents she twirled her finger patiently until she caught the edge and delicately eased out the scroll.

She pressed the paper flat being cautious not to dampen it lest the ink should run and read…

Stunned by the emotions conjured up by this verse, daasee sat quietly musing for some moments as she held in her breath, her hands tightly gripping the sheaf of papers that they held. She looked out vacantly over the horizon until her grasp had loosened and her waheguru waheguru returned. Becoming once more aware she smoothed the papers as though caressing them and wound them once more into a tight roll and replaced them, returning them to the bottle where they lay undisturbed for so many years. How very ironic that she their author, should be their discoverer as well. She could no longer recall the simple tune she had composed and set this Sea Chantey to in requiem so very long ago. She firmly pushed the cork into place and gently flung the bottle back into the Sea.

Then she noticed an outlying reef. It was the barrier of grief, surrounding the isle of desolation. Sitting on its shore she made out a lonely figure, a mere silhouette, but she recognized her daas… sitting in the shadows perched on the barren cliffs of the desolate isle. In the half land that exists between death and life when the soul hovers torn between sorrow of loss and tribulation found in its own breath.

Her heart reached out as it had so many times…