No moon, no wind nothing to spy things by
Stillness, darkness, no line where sea meets sky
I very rarely go out on deck when we’re at sea, especially at night, especially on the crossing. But a lot of things have changed for me in the past months, and I…well I made a promise to someone very special to me that I would try and break some old, rather negative habits, and some even older associations.
So it was that I found myself leaning on the railing of deck nine, on a moonless night, with barely any wind. When you first emerge onto the deck at night you can’t see a thing, the bright deck lights next to the doors blind you, but once your eyes adjust and you make it to the railings, all you can see are stars…scads and scads and miles and miles of stars. There is really very little in the way of light pollution out here, except for the lights of the ship herself – so you will never see the stars quite the same on land as you do at sea.
Whenever I feel too alone, too far from home, and too far from those that I love, I remember that wherever you are in the world, no matter how different the viewpoint is, we’re all looking up at the stars.
Hang tight everyone…I’m coming home.
And when the night wind starts to sing a lonesome lullaby
It helps to think we’re sleeping underneath the same big sky