56

out at sea.

when love comes to us, they are like driftwood that finds survivors lost at sea. something to cling to that makes bearable the vast unknown.

eventually, what the ocean does is take back from us this cherished driftwood. we wake to find it gone, treading water by instinct alone, completely unprotected and with storms on the horizon. we realize it wasn’t meant for us to merely float by, with driftwood our only companion. we will never not be alone in the middle of the ocean. and the horizon reveals itself only so far.

but now our destiny is clear; we were meant to build for ourselves a ship. we were meant to have shelter in the rain, a deck upon which to count the stars on clear nights, a trustworthy vessel by which to explore the earth’s many shores and a way to find safe harbor with one another. without ships, how else could we raise an armada, found brothers-in-arms, as we remain ever out at sea?