Alone beneath the storm-blown sky
The story behind the poem
I was on a weekend break in Wales with a couple of friends. We'd gone to
Aberystwyth but the weather closed in making the day dark and brooding, which
matched my mood at the time during one of my doom-laden episodes.
I was sitting on the shingle beach staring out at the grey waves rolling
endlessly in and was overcome by the realization of how tiny and insignificant I
was compared to the vastness and power of the ocean.
As I sat there brooding on my lot with the dread of the inevitability of death
building, a part of my consciousness began to focus on the sounds of the waves
hitting the shore.
There was something dreadful yet beautifully soothing about the relentless ebb
and flow of sound, so much so that I found myself in a semi-meditative state
somewhere betwixt dread and delight.
by Dave Cheslin
Read the poem