I watch as the masts of the tall ships fall into the sunset, dropping out of my horizon. Boats-the same boats that carry cotton, sugar cane into molasses, grains, tobacco, and slaves-work the seas for their penance. Through hurricane winds, low rations, the 40's and the trades they sail into great sunsets yet unknown-bringing cotton, wheat, tobacco, molasses and slaves to points afar. The bounty of a thousand kings rests comfortably in their hulls. Those boats are history-our past, present, and future. Nobody knows what that trade will bring tomorrow-only that the ships roll in, the ships roll out, as the tide for centuries along the shoreline. I change the ocean and the ocean changes me.