She floats and she floats, adrift in her hope. Her sailboat it tips and it swerves and it dips, in the unpredictable, infinite sea. Love crafted the boat, and it’s strong and it stays, but it isn’t much larger than she. And the skies, they are grey, and the clouds hug her low, and she can’t possibly imagine what’s deep, deep below. Her small eyes are wide in her tense little face, and her silken long hair hangs behind her, a cape. She watches, intent that the drab sky will break, and deep down inside she’s insurmountably brave. This wise one she knows, so much that she glows. The journey is long, through the swells and the breaks, but the boat remains tight and the compass is good. The flame on her candle burns bright, it burns clear, and she guards it so hard that she can’t feel her fear.
