Colors of Sea

"I have so many dreams…"

In the middle of an empty, colorless sea, the Principality of Sealand stood.

The Principality of Sealand was nothing more than an iron skeleton of a dead naval fort. It stood silent, sentinel-like over the black-and-white ocean, an old man who had refused to die. Instead, he stood stoically, wizened and dry, his bones nothing but cement and steel and rusting iron. Hairless, bald, the Principality of Sealand stood, bare and dry in the middle of a sea that was pregnant with futility. A meaningless old man, wasting away in the deadened waves, the wind whistling through his hollow frame. Mute.

"But there's no one to hear them…"

And yet, the Principality of Sealand was a tiny child—a little boy with hair of gold and eyes that mirrored the sky. The Principality of Sealand was a boy with an infinite imagination, one that sailed to the ends of the earth, and back again. He was a child with the most colorful of smiles, the most musical of laughs. And every day, the Principality of Sealand sang childish songs of beauty only he could understand—he sang them across the wideness of the waters, to his patched-up family who loved him. He sang to the two who call him 'son,' who painted their love to him, so he could finally see. He sang to the scattered aunts and uncles—those who had woven their love for him, so he could feel it, touch it. He sang to the friends he had made on every continent—those who had smiled back, who had heard his song, who had held his hand, despite his insignificance.

He sang to the brother who stood, just beyond the reach of the waves, who had wounded him and scorned him and left him for dead, all those years ago. Who he still loved with all the colors of the sea.

"I want to sing…"

The Principality of Sealand sat, in temporary, childish peace, leaning on the rough rails that bordered his deck, swinging his heels above the gray sea below, his lips parted, a gentle melody upon them. The strain that passed from his lips, lost in the waves.

"Will someone listen?"

The waves had been stained with color.