At Europe's oldest lighthouse in the southeast of Ireland, the sun was shining and strong winds threatened to blow us into the sea. Intrepid, we braved the danger. Felt the spray of the waves lashing against the rocks and had to make a run for it when a wave tried to drag us into the abyss.
At this site, Irish monks used to light beacons to guide ships as far back as a millennium ago - to the delight of my ferocious ancestors, the Vikings, who were happy to find such a warm welcome among the people they were about to plunder and kill. It seems to have paid off for the monks, though, as they were spared. Or so the story goes.
In the stormy seas around the lighthouse, rescue services were searching for seamen recently lost at sea. The steady rocks did not tremble even when the roaring waves crashed into them. The bedrock, the ocean, the sun. I am small and fragile.
1 comment:
Hmm... The Sea.
Invincible, Infinite, and Unforgettable.
I can acually feel the lashing wave. Its greatness.
Ahh... I miss the Sea.
Marvellous picture.
Wonderful Writing.
And, I missed you too!
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