‘Tis so appalling – it exhilarates –
So over Horror, it half captivates –
…
And Terror’s free –
Gay, Ghastly, Holiday!
~ Emily Dickinson
(The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #341)
‘Tis so appalling – it exhilarates –
So over Horror, it half captivates –
…
And Terror’s free –
Gay, Ghastly, Holiday!
~ Emily Dickinson
(The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #341)
Like the prodigal son
I return to you, the sea.
You who scare the idylls off
into tame inner fjords, bays and inlets
because you are much too majestic for weekend yachtsmen,
outboard motors and hobby anglers.
Without so much as a blink you swallow the sun
like a raw egg-yolk for supper
and at daybreak you lift heavy banks of cloud
dense with rain and squalls, a wet cloth
on sleep-heavy eyes and throbbing temples.
With the horizon like a diadem about your brows
you write your salt letters to the shore.
Land changes,
men and beasts come and go.
Only you
live your solitary life, the world’s
blue eyes fixed on the stars and eternity.
If the Earth has a soul,
it swims in you.
~ Kolbein Falkeid
(Homecoming to the Sea)