that crucial question that some frown whimsically at me for asking every day.
the same question that matters so much and yet so deceptively simple
So banal and yet so elusive
“will he/she wake up?”
when all is so serene on the surface the sheer contrast with the inner turmoil of an injured brain frantically firing to restore a fragile normality in some netherworld Armageddon whilst the icy stillness of sleep masks the brutal violence deep inside the sea.
so it was on listening to the account of one sailor’s inexpressible need to disarm herself to the mercy of the Pacific’s humbling expanse that amidst the many nights of relentless buffeting and capsizing a fear fatigued and weary soul no longer over awed at staring Death in His face finally grasped what the Night guards from our conscience through dulling us in our routines.
She determined to lay out on deck on a fleetingly ephemeral evening of calm and absorbed the night sky letting herself be swallowed fearlessly by the amphitheatre of stars from across the galaxy all shining down on her single mortal frame and she felt the wave of exhilaration that comes from the knowledge and recognition of just being alive and joined to the cosmos in way that she never experienced before or again.