The Ketch sailed smoothly across the tide.
The tarp whipped tightly across the mast.
Slowly changing in direction.
Calmly adrift as the wind stopped it's breathing.
A convulsion of waves crashing against the hull.
The mizzen-mast stepped back.
The sails collasped, leaning the opposite direction.
The sun shimmered off each wave.
Sinking into the thought of the ocean. Prudent.
Careful not to fall to deep, merely sailing.
Dreaming.
Far away from the barge of nightmares.
Bringing the sail back to life
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