The wind hurls itself
across my roof in big waves
as I hold my breath.
The skylights receive
a violent drum solo;
I receive the awe.
The house bravely waits
for the next real world onslaught;
my faith is a gift.
(damage: usatoday.com; lighthouse wave: katu.com)
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Such power!
I think it’s good for humans to feel really small.
Small is abound a sailboat on the ocean, day after day, seeing no other human life. The stars are like brilliant holes in the sky, nothing a man can see on the land. The position moves each night as you make your way, in tiny increments as adventurous men have done for millennia, when measured against the distance of the stars. I always took the peaceful watch from midnight until 0300. Just me, the ocean, and Gods universe, where all power is stored.
Aye, Cap’t Allen. That is magic. There is nothing like deep blue water ocean and a sailboat, nothing. I get a similar feeling on my home beach, where light pollution is minimized, but it’s still not really the same. There is still too much man-made light. You have to go 20 miles south to escape light pollution, and even then it’s not the same.