Private poem by Sister Nimue, kept within a Folded Perfumed Paper in Thomas Langton's Vestments

I saw a star in the shell of my palm,
where salt remembers the shape of your voice.
The tide came whispering, within waves—
and secrets I dare not speak aloud.

You are the hush before tidal waves break,
the ink that stains the veil of my sleep.
I dream of a spear made of warmth and light,
and a silence that bends the stars to listen.

Just as Our Lady seeks union with sky—
I leave the depths to kneel in the surf,
tracing your name in foam and longing.