There is a quiet on the sea that speaks to the hole which rests in the center of our souls. When one stands on the deck of a ship, gazing up at the night sky while far removed from the artificial lights which illuminate the world of man, one is able to finally witness the extraordinary vastness of the universe in full measure.
An ocean of light and dark spread out above, scattered as far as the eye can see to the horizon, and extending further into the depths of space than the human mind can comprehend. Standing exposed like that before all of raw eternity, it is impossible not to consider how lonely we are as a species, set adrift through the endless, uncaring void of space on our precarious little ship of rock and water and earth.
Quiet moments like those beg to be filled. Whenever I was at sea, I would fill them with music; my violin would stretch its notes out across the wide, unfeeling waters, desperate to connect with something, anything out there in the dark.Â
It is an act of faith, I suppose, to string a song out into the void, born out of a desperate desire to find confirmation that what I feel, or even that what I am, is real, and not merely an illusion fabricated by a delusional mind.
Sometimes, the song is cheerful. Sometimes, the song is triumphant. Sometimes, the song is sad. But better a sad melody than no melody at all.
That is the key. To express one’s being, to shout to the heavens that something lives and breathes, to sing to the universe the song of what it means to be alive and aware of one’s own existence.
I play those notes now across the dark waters that surround me. I play them to chase away the hollow dread for myself and my few companions who have survived the terrible course of events which has just transpired.
I’m still not sure what I saw on the nameless island we leave behind us, lost and mysterious in the South China Sea. I’m still not sure it’s even me who sits and tells this tale. But the tale is all I have for you.
Let me sing for you now my own song for the void. It is a song of darkness and light, of madness and mystery, of terror and love and violence and triumph. Perhaps it will strike a chord. Perhaps it will merely amuse. Nevertheless, it is my song, and all that I have to offer, to you, or to the universe.
