The bow breaks the waves as a vessel of ancient oak clefts the breakers for one last voyage of adventure and discovery. As winds of adversity blow away the cobwebs, she leans into the breeze seeking far flung shores of trade and commerce. Breaking with convention she sails, not knowing what strange waters she will encounter, what storms endure.
Folks look on in speculation. Why not stay in port, rust away in safety, secure in harbour? Yet she sets her face to the sea choosing to venture forth in strange uncharted waters, perversely seeking her own destiny, a heart of oak craving the freedom of the open sea even at great peril, for this has always been her role, she cannot depart from it.
They do not understand her heart, the call of the gulls the heady scent of freedom on the breeze. Will the strong old beams withstand the voyage or are they rotted away with corruption and greed. Who can say?
Her crew, long at anchor, scramble to hoist the rigging, to catch the prevailing breeze, startled by this sudden about face. Confusion on deck as the ship itself seizes the opportunity to cast off the chains of her anchor and set sail one more time for parts unknown.