Tale at Sea

A ocean voyage with surprises

Tale at Sea©
By Artemis Quill 2025
“No problems, overwhelmed with blessings”

The salt-crusted Johan, a man carved from storm-wrecked mast,
Did cast his gaze upon the shimmering, moon-kissed shore,
Where flitting shadows danced, a revelry so bold,
No gentle whisper ever touched by human words, at fast
His heart, a barnacled thing, craved something more,
Than netting silver scales in depths eternally controlled.

A ball of light-filled air, translucent, pale, unknown, with care,
The maiden Lyra, born of seafoam, walked among the trees,
Her laughter, like the tinkling of ice upon the brine,
Where music spun the night, a dream with eyes to share,
And whispered secrets carried on the breeze,
A vibrant, swirling promise, exquisitely divine.

The party roared, a cacophony of spectral, glowing forms, with fire,
Where phantom fiddlers sawed and drank of starlight wine,
Yet Johann, tethered to his earthly, weathered bone,
Observed the scene from cliffs, a fortress built of storms, of higher
And felt within him a conflict he could not resign,
A yearning for this dream he'd always known.

Fear coiled within him like a serpent in the deep, as a desire
The vibrant, laughing Lyra drew ever near, she sees
The brutal fisherman, with salt spray in his hair,
For she perceived the sadness that his harsh exterior keep,
A loneliness that echoed 'cross the starlit seas,
And felt a sudden tug of pity and compare.

He saw in her the very essence of the sea, to require,
A boundless, fickle power, gentle and austere.
He thought of nets and hooks and all the instruments of pain,
To hold such fragile wonder, to bind it and inquire
About the secrets that she held so clear,
Would only shatter light, and leave him stained.

But Lyra, sensing the torment that began as a pyre,
Felt drawn to his rough edges, carved by life's despair.
She knew the hunger lurking in his soul could hold
More depths than any ocean's black desire,
And in his eyes, a shadowed hope declare,
More beauty than a king's chest filled with gold.

She offered him a blossom, picked from phantasmal briar,
A symbol of the fragile hope that starts to rare,
A seed of trust planted in fear's barren ground with speed
He hesitated, calloused fingers tremble for the wire,
Of chains that held him captive in a cold aware,
His heart, once dead, stirred in the ocean.

He took the flower, petals kissed by phantom pyre,
And saw, reflected in her eyes, a world set free of rare
No longer just a fisherman, by grim necessity led,
In Lyra's gaze, a chance to finally acquire
A love that conquers fear, and starts to feed,
A love that blooms between the living and the dead.