The sailor who took his oars and set sail was invited to still waters. Still waters would make any man think himself a sailor, but when the water would become a tempest, most men would jump overboard and send themselves to Davey Jones' locker, rather than to be put away by fate's hand.

But there be a few who adjust the sails, for they know what the water is. The water is not still, it's only still then. The water is not tempest, it's only tempest then. And though the boat is thrown left and right, the few learn the pattern of the tempest and sail the way of the water, until the tempest is stilled once more. For that be the way of the tempest: to become still. And that be the way of still waters: to thrash.

July 9, 2025, 7:41 p.m.

Written bY CYril