Building a boat
Moon 8 - Going over the horizon
I sense the horizon creeping towards me. I have an illogical need to control its arrival, so I decide to build a boat. This way I can get to it before it gets to me (I know)! Either way, it keeps me and my hands very busy. It makes me uneasy, this sense of the horizon passing over me before I’m prepared. This scheme (building a boat) is my way of coping.
As well as the impending horizon, the colour everywhere is green - every shade you can imagine, all textures and shapes of green, penetrating my senses, seeping into me. The sea breaks the green, like a colour skyline, sometimes it’s hard to see where green ends and blue begins.
It’s all so bright.
As I scrape the wood hull with a spoke shave, I feel magnificently valued, I sense the sky and the sea as one. I breathe, and notice I’m breathing all the green and blue colours that were ever composed, along with all the spectators who ever perceived them, streaming through us with each stroke.
The familiarity of building a boat is not lost on me, the muscle memory remains strong. I recall being docked on many shores, building boats in time, moving through oceanic and galactic tides.
I’m tidally locked to this boat and its exchange of energy, timeless and synchronously co-orbiting, just like this planet and her moon - who once again shows her new face.