You are the quiet between crashing waves,
the harbor I never meant to seek.
A soul carved from iron and storm,
yet gentle enough to steady trembling hands.
The sea has taught me that nothing beautiful is ever promised to stay.
Ships vanish beyond the horizon, stars drown beneath the dawn, and even the fiercest tempests must one day surrender to calm.
Yet if fate grants me only borrowed moments,
I would spend them beside you-
laughing at the wind, challenging the tides,
finding home in the sound of your voice.
You are not the anchor that keeps me still.
You are the wind that reminds me why I ever dared to sail.
So if you should ever wonder what place you hold within my heart, know this:
When the world grows dark,
I look for you...
the way sailors look for the North Star-
not because it belongs to them,
but because its light has always been enough
to guide them home.


Penned by my hand on the 7th of Scarlatan, in the year 1010 AF.