The Great Cosmic Story
Spiritual Legacy of Uranda and Martin Cecil
April 12, 2018
The winds are up from the south
pushing white caps over grey water,
the Pacific storm reaching over the Olympics,
Vancouver Island, to the inland sea.
Most of the shorebirds are hunkered down,
Canada geese tucked into their lee cover,
even the otter seem to be laying low.
There’s a beautiful excitement on the wind,
as if the vast ocean were breathing upon us,
carrying messages from the far east
of change and new life.
Gulls flare up into the gusts —
storms won’t put them off,
but there are no sails within sight
and we too take shelter.
The sea has begun to roll,
the long fetch of southerly wind
bringing the broad channel awake,
yet hundreds of feet below in a stone-lined canyon
the dark is unperturbed, the water still.
The depth will not roil as the surface churns
the deeper voice steady in the sweeping wind.
I want to arc like the gull, dive like a whale
into the vast darkness, but I keep my post,
calm in the great change upon us,
finding myself in the wind, the wave
and the deep grey sea, vast and unmoved.