Seas of Fortune

Across the restless mirror of the world

where dawn spills molten gold upon the waves,

the ships slip silently into fate’s embrace,

their sails trembling with dreams unspoken,

their hulls carved with prayers for mercy

from tempests that loom beyond the horizon.

Here, men cast anchors into the dark unknown,

seeking fortune in lands unmapped by memory,

believing each sunrise might reveal riches

woven into the secret tapestry of the sea.

They chase horizons that flee with each step,

a dance of hope against the wailing winds.

Salt air sings hymns to their calloused hands,

hands that haul ropes and cradle the helm,

hands that write letters to beloveds left waiting

in silent houses by the tide-washed shore.

The sea holds their secrets, their sorrows, their songs,

folding them into its fathomless blue vaults.

For what is fortune if not a fleeting glimmer—

a silver fish darting just beneath the surface,

a pearl glimpsed in the half-light of a storm,

a whisper that calls from the distant spray,

“Come, brave soul, risk all for a moment’s glory.”

And so they sail, these children of the wind,

into waters both cruel and kind,

seeking the promise of golden islands

where the world ends and begins anew,

each voyage a prayer, each landfall a hymn,

each heartbeat echoing across eternity’s waves.