Unsinkable Ships
In the blooming life of Spring, a mighty ship was constructed from a master builder. Her builder felt wasted from a season at rest and built her for glory. She was the unsinkable ship, ready for any storm, if any storm so dared attempt. Many storms tried, many storms failed, she remained afloat and on course through Summer, Fall, and snow.
In the bitter cold of Winter, a ship in a bottle was delicately crafted by a hobbyist entering a season of rest. In the fired comfort of a snow-strewn cabin, the crafter earned some retirement, and yearned for the arts. She was gently constructed, each piece methodically placed inside the impeccable glass. She was finished with pride and displayed prominently. She too was unsinkable, unchanged in any season.
The unsinkable ship at sea knew many ports and many waters, and they knew her. Through all seasons since the first Spring, she chased the next adventure under sun or moon. Her sails were painted with the tatters of victory, her distinguished disfigurements told stories more than any sailor could. She had overcome everything in her way with glorious and furious strength. She remained unsinkable. Ever hard at work, ever at sea.
The unsinkable ship in the bottle became a storied piece of work to behold, long after her first Winter melted. Guests gazed upon her with wonder, appreciating the effort of her construction while imagining stories of such a vessel. Stories of adventure and victory. Adventure she never knew and victory she never drew. She remained unsinkable. Ever in the bottle, ever on display.
There was no rest for the mighty ship at sea. No, at all times she sailed onward, only stopping to restock or repair. She was a ship made for work, and work she did. Stories preceded her, stories followed her, but she was never at port to hear them. While her stories were told, she was off to make the next. In the legend that most ships dream of, she dreamed for calmer waters. But she was not built for the calm.
Stories of the bottled vessel were imaginative, but that is all they were. Imagination of journeys never had. Imagination untouched by salt or sea. Imagination by those who could only dream and not do. Anything outside of the bottle was a mystery to her, there was no risk in her display on the mantle. In all of her safety, she dreamed for the danger she never knew, the action people spoke of on her behalf. She dreamed for risk she was not built for.
Time returned to Spring for the vessel at sea, and her prowess powered on like the raging waves who tried her. She did not dream for legend or rage. She dreamed of Winter. She dreamed not for the cold, but for warmth by the fire. She dreamed not for the winds, but for the cabin away from them. She dreamed not of ice, but for a similar stillness. She dreamed of a bottle to call her own, away from the sea.
It may as well have always been Winter for the bottled boat. Neither cold nor heat disturbed the pristine environment, no matter how much sun peeked in. She felt pained by pristine. What waters she might have known, what winds she might have felt, what wounds she might have worn. What stories she might have lived instead of inspired at the sight of her. She impressed many famous guests, but she was unimpressed herself.
Of all the sights explored across the map, the unsinkable ship never enjoyed them. She sped past, onto the next, still stopping only for repair or resupply. Bottles of beer, bottles of rum. Bottles for the sailor and bottles for sale. But not bottles for the unsinkable ship. Not bottles for her needs, only bottles for those who needed her. No bottles for her.
The unsinkable ship in a bottle was delicately built inside the glass. The pieces went in, and she would never come out. She was built under protection, built within limits. She could never escape her storage without collapsing completely. She was unsinkable, she could never even set sail. Her dry display was the only sea she would know.
What a gift to be a ship in a bottle when you crave for contentment. What a gift to be a ship at sea when you crave the quest. For the ship in her bottle dreamed of journeys untraveled, and the ship at sea begged for peace unknown. Their treasures betrayed them, their craftsmanship cursed them. The unsinkable ships wished for what the other ship had but could not share. The unsinkable ships would give their own gifts away, even at the risk of the ocean floor.
Across all the oceans, it is the ships who know they can sink that find true happiness, for anything worth having is worth sinking for. Security is suffering when the cost is constraint. It is better to sink in pursuit of what you desire most, than to float far from the waters of your thirst.