My feet, knees, and toes found balance points. I searched with my feet for folds, and barnacles on the Leviathan with which I could climb him to his head. I breathed deeper and quicker, not from present need, but from future need. I lifted my left knife free from his back, and with body, knee and foot shifted myself up his back towards his head, ever so small a space in relation to his great size. Down went the left knife into his hide. Again I lifted out a knife, but this time on the right, and again with body, knee and foot advanced ever so small a distance. Listen brothers. You know of the horse. Strong, and swift it is. But rarely does it stand, and struggle. Away from danger does it run. The Leviathan is huge. But it has only bulk. It has neither tooth nor claw. So upon that Leviathan that I climbed, moving slowly on a path to its head, I searched for the path hard. For I knew that it soon would run, from these little stings though less than a flea bite is to me. Yet run it would, prudence given it's kind without need of experience. So when his running began I was ready for my walk of life, and the life of my village.

I could feel beneath my body a shift in the flesh. And with that clue I was up. With both knives in the air I ran. I ran for my life. The back of the Leviathan on which I ran flattened. I knew only more speed was enough. I threw myself along the back of the Leviathan. But it was not far enough. The water rushed towards me. Both knives I plunged to their hilts in Leviathan's flesh. My head I tucked tight to my right shoulder.My body I pressed hard to the wide flesh. And then the water hit me. I pressed harder. The water, supporter of life though it was, wanted me for death right now. And it tugged, and tugged at me. But I clung and clung to Leviathan. Beneath the waves, my chest began to burn, but now I was close to life, and I wiggled as I had done above the sea. One knife out, my body dragged forward, knife back in further along. Other knife out, my body forward, knife back in higher. Only four times did I do that with body and with knives. I drove each knife into either side of the blow-hole. I pressed my face against the seal of the flap over the hole, and pressed. Pressed for life. And only after a long, long moment did bubble of air leak out of the seal. A tiny bubble to Leviathan; large as life to me. I breathed out then, in as quick as quick could be. Twice more I breathed the stray bubbles. Then the Leviathan returned to surface of the sea. And I pulled my knives out, and stood up proud. I leaped into the sea and swam hard away from Leviathan. I looked for my boat, and it found me.

Brothers. All life long we grapple with Leviathan. This is our fate. Like a horse we run or we attack. But we are human. We think, we speak. Therefore we can walk beyond running and attacking. Because we are human we can walk the Leviathan, and live. Our choice.

Robert O'Connell, 1988