Above the soft rolling waves, guided by a name only known to dreams, she came—a clarity wrapped in whorls of salt. Do you hear it, too? the kiss of dawn on the water? whispers of ancients believed soil to sand translate destiny and dispel fears into azure? Sun-etched tales linger in vapor.
We sat upon the sand, this vessel-dreamt shore, where grains hold shadows of the stories told and untold. Unearthly winds coaxed windchimes, ribbing the air with prose of mariners. Could one hear texts not inked, pages petal-eaten effigies each altering an island?
"Eons past, the vessel was born," the hush invited revealing the compass rose entwined within heart-stone. Forgotten songs fragmented bridged gaps interwoven, depths. Survival meant reading past breath shifts and into our names unreadable; luminal tides softly scout navigation." O lull of those salted, occluded voyagers—stream untold lore traversant.
Was it boredom or tides that persistently caret their oaths, swaying sea-breeze charts in crystalline sighs of honeyed echo? Awaken threads in the southeasterly currents, taking root spiritualized through ink-ights, discover the Labrador skies lurking? Look beyond sight...