When she walks by even the sea-king bows his dripping head. Her soft feet lightly mark the walk but leave blanced soil for all who follow.
Her beauty, bequeathes even rebellious tempests, abandoned and begging at the door of the almshouse. She can with ease entrust the most herculean of men with vigorous cravings, each crying an urn of lonely tears.
She leads the most powerful to the altar of the dying, forcing the most devout sailors to allow the ocean to swallow their very stealth.
She alone finds support within the very jagged rocks that take ships to their ultimate doom. As she sits alone draped in golden robes, and pride. The inviolable lovers of the sea become forever a part of its salty realm.
- Johnny V.
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