Uncharted Waters
Danger slides in whispers under the bow.
The horizon blends seamlessly with the cold grey ocean.
I search for landmarks
Until my eyes grow weary with the watching.
My craft is tiny and unsuitable, my hands blistered with the task of rowing.
I lift my oar to listen.
Birds perhaps, or just a sounding whale, it makes no difference.
My course is set.
I have determined that any direction is better than none,
even if it leads to perdition.
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