Our ship is tempest-tossed, the gale is raging endlessly on. Every slackening of rainfall is but a brief respite before the next wave crashes down. A year we've been riding this storm. Unlike some storms we've weathered before, there is little about this to quicken the heart and feed our wildest spirits- this tempest beats down relentless, and all the frantic tasks to stay afloat merge into an exhausted dream.
Still, I can marvel at the waves, towering majestics, great kings of water rolling and crashing. I gasp at the explosion of light sparkling briefly from the school of fish below. The lightning is a deadly gift, dangerously beautiful, and the thunder reverberates down into my toes. And there, look! Do you see? A break in the clouds, however brief, to reveal the moon shining ever on, separate and eternal in the velvet night beyond. Do you see it, love? Can you see?
But you feel you've been washed overboard, and you cling desperately to what lifeline you can hold, separate now from our floating haven, mercilessly shoved about by forces beyond your control. You cannot catch your breath, and you cannot see. I am reaching my hand out to you, as waves wash you near. Can you catch my fingers, love? Can you climb back aboard with me, and share this journey again?
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