I am sorry

I can't do this again.  I know where the road leads. Five days and five nights. I am weaker than I was. I have heart failure.  God have mercy on you all, it's only fair as to me it's been merciless. Completely merciless.

My fault I know.  You will comfort yourselves with that, I know this too.

I am so so sorry if anyone is hurt, though they won't be.

Let the first stone not be cast

To the sea.  To the deep.  Too deep for sight let it sink.  

Let this be conduit, let this be lightening, let ballast lost uplift the Ship.  No, let the Ship be uplifted as boughs uplift when the first foliage falls, brown withered coracles to float on the black water; that they straighten, these arms of wood which would form the shape of the keel, and let the Ship no longer be bowed by weight unneeded.  Let the stones be assembled.  Let them be numbered, though they are numberless, and one after one spiral out of my eyes' reach.  Let them be submerged, allow them passage ever lower but let them not be forgotten nor permit me forgetfulness of them, for they were part of me and leave their hollowed imprints yet upon the skins: mine, ours and the sea's.  Allow the prow to rise yet be pared of pride, for the straits ahead are perilous and all voyages uncertain.  Provide strength to the hand that holds the rudder fast, provide speed when it is needed, even after sunset, at night, bind the stern but not sternly.

As salt be you valued, not as gold.  

L'Shanah Tovah Tikatevu

Embarkation 2012

Gangway.  I do not wish to know why it is called that.

From the deserted black sea the wind rises though the waves are small. 

From the desert of the sea to the desert of the sand.  I can hear it calling.  Once.  Again.


The wind pulls.  We move.  It begins.

Three times.

( if )

If I were to tell you the truth then this would happen:


if you believed me, if you understood that what I had told you was the truth, all your hearts would break, so

you would not believe me.  In fact you would use words such as 'believe' to justify your own lack of it.  Then,

you would discount anything else you were ever told which bore even a passing resemblance to this 'truth,' then

you would "go about your 'business,'" as though you had any to go about, then

you would yelp in surprise, like a kicked dog, and then

you would watch, wide-eyed, as your children burned.


So, I shall not tell you the truth.  Instead, I shall lie to you all.

Horizontal

"Mother, why are the flames sailing the sea?"

waves

The sea looks like glass yet the sea is not glass.  What trickery is this 'waterglass'?  Not a drop to drink, oh no.  Most definitely not.  No water, brine nor brackish nor salty nor soft nor hard, not here not now.

Project ζ.  Incept date: 21st March 2012.  Longevity: unknown.

ζ looks like the prow that cuts through the waves and is a beautiful curvature. And ζ looks as the stern-rudder which leaves no wake.


Hope is to be suspected, as is Faith: both now are unfit for purpose or purpose unfit for them.  Why?  Because one can hang hope on faith and have faith in hope.  All that matters now is the course, is events.  Even the compass can no longer be relied upon, or any other circling thing.  Avoid the Maelstrom, avoid the gyre.


We must go on, yet we must steer the safer course, the curve that seems the straighter line.  Yes, we must go on.

Split the meniscus.  Tear the surface.  Cleave the curtain.  Have no fear.  

(all there ever was to sea)

All around.  All around as far as sight permits: water.   No vessels, not even much flotsam.

A problem with such isolation is a tendency toward the unconsciously solipsistic.