Far far away in the wild ocean, an old pirate and his wrecked ship was stranded on an island where he built his fortress.
Many ships came by and offered to board and set on a journey again. He never wanted it. No, not at all. As his fortress, his heart was formidably impenetrable.
Until one sunny afternoon just before the death of the moon for the eighth time that year, a ship came.
It was different, it was not a ship in its maiden voyage, it was not without scratch and damage. It was different, he instantly knew that there would be an endless glorious journey. It was different, he unknowingly anchored his heart to the ship.
But he was distracted by his fortress.
Another twelve cycles of dead moon the ship waited.
But his map of mind was in disarray.
Only after it was setting far on the horizon of the ocean that he fully realized, that it was not a possibility until it was that ship.
But the ship had sailed away and gone.
The pirate and his shipwreck turned into stone themselves, unified with the fortress.
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