Grim sky and a blood-red rye, we push off from Northways town, off into a surly sea as a storm cracks down. Supposed to fetch a lover home, sailing unskilled over the foam, rain-blind, freezing, free-floating and torn at the sides, pleading with the merciless tide. Don't let the sea in. We came up fierce as fire, mounting the sky, unbroken and beckoning, gloriously high. We listened to our blood, the insistent sound it made, before the ruinous fade. It's the beauty that eats us alive.