On the bow of a great ship. Perfect by design, regardless of what complaints you may have of it. It was made that way. And it is yours.
Looking our over the horizon but seeing nothing. The fog is too thick, the night too dark. The air so heavy your lungs labor under the burden of breath. Your bones ache and creek with the same rolling sway of the ship as it bobs in the tide.
You're moving, but you don't know where. You can't see. No point in steering- you wouldn't know which direction in which to point. So you stand there, on the bow of this great ship, and wait. Listening to the waves, swaying on your feet, and wondering what will come next.
But it isn't a useless delay. It is not a time of no action. Something is building.
Out there, in the dark, beyond the fog- something is brewing in the wind and water and sunlight that you can't see. Not yet. But something is taking those thoughts of yours, something is mixing those swelling desires in the tumultuous seas beyond your brow. Be careful what you wish for- but do wish. Do dream. Do envision.
Because in the dark, in ways that your conscious mind can't grasp, there is much to be seen. There are actions to be taken. There are important things to be said and many people waiting to hear them. There is movement and growth and fruitful bounties to be had. Just up there, just beyond the horizon.
If you close your eyes, you can see it. Not with your vision, not with your physical body. But with your sight. With that part of you that logic dismisses but is so much more aware than you think. Close your eyes and peer into the dark and you might catch a glimpse of what is coming. Pieces that don't quite fit together, elements that will change before you can picture their whole. Things unknowable, but intuited. It's out there. And it's coming.
So wait. Heave those great, heavy breaths. Dream your dreams and wish your wishes. And watch the horizon with your eyes closed.