6 of Swords.
Another night, another ship, and after some swift entanglement, we pass the other by.
There have been too many nights, too many ships, too many moonless darkness unleaven by stars. Mine is a but a fragile skiff, adrift in the breeze. I roil to the slightest turbulence, the merest wave; I am in constant fear of capsizing.
And come the others, hulking liners, pulling me into their wake, unwilling. I, who am happiest sailing my lonesome, can only close my eyes... and hang on.
O, if there are gods and they have mercy, they will grant me a space in the safe harbors. Else, let me loose upon the wild ocean, and watch me sail into the sky!
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