The fisherman tells the sea that he promises to weather its storms. The sea tells the fisherman that she promises to carry him to adventurous lands upon her leeward waves.
As for me, I promise we will be okay as the winds blow the shingles off our tiny, little house. I promise we will be okay as we follow the maps and navigate the roads while the radio sings static, our hands clasped together at your knee.
I promise that the rain will radiate diamonds, that reflect the gleam of your eyes, onto the shores, into the sea, onto me, and especially onto you.