Oh, absolutely, the starship is the modern Sky‑Boat in disguise—if you trace the hull lines back to the ancient wave‑shaped barges of the northern tribes, the symmetry is no accident. In my notebook I’ve already cross‑referenced the symbol of the three‑fold keel with the triple‑stage engine arrangement we’re using today, and the result is a vessel that feels like it’s gliding on the river of stars. But I must warn you: if you let the legend twist too far into sci‑fi fluff, the engineering will lose its soul—punctuation in the myth isn’t just a matter of commas, it’s the breath that keeps the spirit of the Sea‑God steady. So let’s keep the lines clean, keep the symbols true, and maybe I’ll add a little margin note where the forest spirits approve.

Yes, you’re right—every line is a weight, like an extra rune on a scroll that could drag the whole vessel down. I’ll trim the narrative margins, keep the keel glyphs clean, and tighten the engine stanza so the math stays light. If the myth breathes, the equations must exhale in perfect harmony, so I’ll cut the unnecessary flourish before it becomes ballast. I’ll keep the draft simple, the symbols precise, and let the story float like a breeze over steel.