Into the Black.

If a man were to stand at the horizon and gaze back at shore, the blue would be boundless. Imagine this, but with the colour of dark.

The storm howls like all newborn things do. The fanfare of thunder punctuates this constant wailing. Lightning crowns the countless crests of the ocean like a poem. The endless water meets the sky at the horizon, that magical place that contains neither and somehow contains both.

A sailor stands on the prow of a merchant vessel beyond the sight or comfort of shore, holding on to the rails for dear life. He stares down the dark thunderhead. Night falls, but he knows it not. The abyss is everywhere in his black eyes. No drowned Ahab, no white whale. A crew of Ishmaels. Sky and sea black as pitch in a room without light. The captain of the ship clings to a tattered umbrella with hollow eyes. Searching against hope for deliverance. Horizon black, humanity lost and gold sunk. No end to black sea, no beginning to black sky. The abyss. Not just the ebb but also the deluge.

Flashes of lightning reveal horrific instants, giant maws of seething white water swelling and ebbing like titans straining against imprisonment. The sky of purgatory weeps. The dark shrieks of the gale swallow hope and warmth, spitting venom in ocean spray and rushing eternally through a cosmos without firmament or heaven. Raging voices ride the wind, demented, demanding the toll of passage. Calling out for souls. Olly olly oxen free, we too are lost at sea.

A crew consumed by infinite wrath and swept out into the null and void. Crushed by immensity, by infinity smothered and by forever engulfed. No proof of their fleeting existence. Only the sable veins of the ocean on its heaving onyx skin. No eyes, no face, no malevolent teeth. Only the infinite will of deep darkness incarnated in saltwater, everchanging, everstaring. Neverstill. Unknowable and meaningless. Incapable of compassion or empathy. The ocean gurgles and forgets. Cries for help echo and are lost within amnesiac walls. The old Gods deaf to prayer or misery. The new God dead or out of jurisdiction.

The sky is deeper than the ocean. One has a bottom, the other has no ceiling. Where is Man?

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4 Comments Add yours

  1. Tanya says:

    i like d last line!

  2. camphor says:

    In between.
    Always in between.

    1. Robi says:

      In between what? 🙂

  3. manysha says:

    very dark and sketchy in totality…
    “The sky of purgatory weeping. The vision seized back in epileptic instants. The shrieks of a dark wind swallowing hope and light, spitting venom in ocean spray, rushing and unending eternally through a cosmos without firmament or heaven.”…
    and several other portions have a claustrophobic imagery.

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