A Voice in the Fog
When a fog horn sounds, it declares all there is to say upon a sea of nothingness.
Maybe not so much today, but there was a day. Many a day, astern of present progress, can attest to the merit of a vigorous “voice” in the fog.
When a fog horn sounds, it declares all there is to say upon a sea of nothingness. During such times when anxiety runs high and uncertainty abides without measure or escape, there is no room for words – the fog shuts them out. Better to listen for sounds that carry and bounce amidst the murky shroud than to talk anyway. Listening is vigilance, and vigilance is solace for the disquieted mariner in the fog.
For in the fog, eyes grow tired of seeing not a thing but bewilderment. The mind drifts too, unable to orient itself towards a confident course of knowingness. Only the mighty thrust of bellows pushing through the soupy shroud can lift the spirit – inspire hope. And though there are no absolutes with sound on the water, when it is the only availing lifeline, the mariner grips it straightaway and clings to its unrelenting exhortations.
The fog horn – it sounds to a rhythm assigned, and that sound is unabashed. Amidst the heavy vapor, the audible warning goes forth, reverberating through atmospheric hollows to the limits of its reach. Echoes of prudence will then circle back upon the fog battalions. Wait for it! In the melee where land and sea converge, the fog horn illustrates its noble worth at light stations past and present.
