Port of Inspiration

Morning Thoughts #280

Port of inspiration, I wish to remain open.

I must calm myself into a bay, so that ships may land, ships of insight, nothing I could have imagined, seen on the horizon through the fog, taking anchor. What I could never have built now unloads: the most exotic cargo upon my shores. And somehow, miraculously, it is mine now to distribute.

Let me give back in the form of its ultimate dispersion.

You understand why the world is so barren now, right? All of us, our waters, are continually whipped and ripped, and the cargo loads, the payloads, that might have passed along routes just beyond the horizon note the storm shoreward and keep themselves at sea. Lonely shores we are: rocky and sea-soaked.

Make time for emergent bays, and there is no telling the ultimate goods that will come from them.