On boats in cold water haggard men hoist sails for shores never seen at the edges of lands never crossed. Wrinkled hands and extinguished cigarettes draw the eyes to the hardened hearts of men lost at sea. Traveling for seasons without any true reasons these men know no homes and have long forgotten their loves abandoned and left for dead in the fireless chimneys of villages ruled by hatred and war. Adrift, these men are wandering the world in search of their oyster. If it shall ever be found is a concern that left them the first time the ocean came over the side rails and they struggled to cling to any sturdy and hopefully fixed object. Swept away from their minds and their liberated states, they simply go through the motions of their everyday lives.
Sleep.
Wake.
Eat.
Work.
Sleep.
Wake.
Eat.
Work.
Repeat.
Land will find you my friends. Land will find you. Whether under the sun or under the sea, you will touch the firm surface of this beautiful blue planet again. You will find your final resting place and all will be calm. Continue to raise your sails. Continue to follow the stars. Continue to set your course. Cold water, wind or otherwise, land will find you. It will.