In the keeper's eye, the ocean was never tame.
"What is it that the tides wish to tell, if only they had tongues?"
The lantern glows softly, simmering in the symphony of stars and salt. One ask, "Where do thoughts travel, chained to the shiplike ribs of our skulls?" The sea answers in waves, echoing back not truths, but reflections of our marooned souls.
The whispers endure, forever scraping the sky.
"Lux in tenebris, witness of the earthly desolation."
The wind murmurs secret wishes of forgotten mariners, voicing legends that entwine with the current and burrow into the light. As a keeper, we guard not what is visible, but the intangible whispers within the helm.
Stay, listen to the cerulean whispers, as they untangle from the phantom beckonings of twilight.