The Fog Horn Blows

The Fog Horn Blows
(a poem/inspirational story by me!!)

You're grasping and pulling at life...trying to fight the gravitational pull of the moon...on your shoulders. Fighting to reach the sandy shores and sink into the soft silk of grains of relief. And happiness. Rocky doubts stalk the waters, and clouds of storms of despair linger on the horizon.. You're lost in these unchartered waters, lost and afraid because what you are experiencing has never before encountered your path. A fog horn blows and light flashes from atop a nearby cliff, signaling help to you and those trapped in your misery. But you ignore it. You dawdle on the sea...stuck in your agony...cold and wet. Never daring to venture out to discover your full potential. Because you're too afraid. Too afraid to roar above these doubts; too afraid to foam up over the rocks, froth over the clouds, and bubble through the storms of life.
The fog horn blows.
That light house...that beacon of hope shining in the distance...it's beckoning. Beckoning for you. Calling out in a still, small voice as it whispers: "Trust me. I won't let you crash into the rocks. I won't let your vessel drown. Follow my light. "Through the haze of fog and mist lies the unknown, where misery and despair are sure to topple your hopes and dreams. And yet...and yet...the fog horn blows. Softly. Quietly. You feel as if you are to far away to possibly reach it's safety. Too far away to embrace the love and peace that is promised on the other side of the storm. The fog horn blows. But you're too far away. Your boat tips to the side as you strike yet another rock. The clock is ticking. The storm raging closer...and closer...and closer...There's no hope left, how can there possibly be any? Seconds remain before you're hit with the full impact of your decisions, all because you decided to choose the wrong way home. The fog horn blows. Lightning strikes the sky in sparks of silver, while thunder booms close by, giving a warning call that tempest is about to hit. You watch as your life turns to shambles...the boat begins to sink...wave after wave crashes on the deck of your thoughts, threatening to turn your mind in a scattered mess of tears and debry. No longer can you hear the fog horn. No longer can you see the light that would have saved you. If you had only listened. And followed. Anxiously you take the wheel and try in a vain attempt to launch coarse in another direction. But it's a hopeless plot. The wind is to fierce; the waves are to high; and the water is too deep. What can save you now? In fear and anguish you cry out to the sky, cry out to the angry night, pleading and begging for it to be taken away. Seconds pass by and then minutes that seem like hours. And still there is no sign of help. Your ship has begun to break and leak, spilling your lifelong dreams over the side into the ocean spray below. Everythign seems hopeless. Empty. Lost. With tears cascading down your face, you prepare to jump overboard in an attempt to save yourself. If you are worth saving. You are no longer for sure. About to tip over the edge, you get ready to make the leap into the unknown, unsure if it's the right thing but knowing there is no other way to save yourself. Casting your eyes to the sky, you look up and offer a single prayer as you whisper, "Help me."
The fog horn blows.
Out of the distance you suddenly see the saving light. And you go for it. Jumping into frigid waters, not caring that the waves are higher than trees, you begin to swim. Into the hands of the fog horn you give your hope, your life, your being, everything you have with faith as you plunge toward the light. Your muscles begin to ache and you feel tired and weary. You wonder when it will all end, when it will all be over. Looking back over your shoulder, you see the past and the remains of your ship. When you glance towards the light again, you find it gone. Wading in the water, you desperately look around but there is no light anywhere.
The fog horn blows.
Steadily you swim towards the sound, keeping your head held high as you thrust out in faith towards the only thing that could possibly save you.
The fog horn blows. Closer. You're almost there. And then...silence.
Hour that seem like years pass before you hear it, and you are about ready to give up.
Your aching muscles are begging for a rest, begging for relief.
The fog horn blows.
Tired and weary, you trudge, slower, but still steady.
The fog horn blows. Again.
And suddenly you are at the base of the cliff looking up at the light now glistening down at you. In a daze you grasp the ladder and climb up the side of the cliff, unseen hands giving you strength to make the upward journey. Filled with relief, you lay down on the sand and just rest...rest your weary eyes and tired muscles...your aching back and chapped lips. You rest. In peace. Thankful for the lighthouse that helped save you from an untimely death. Thankful for the life that you were allowed to live...and perhaps still are. Thankful that everything breath you take into your starved lungs is filled with the joy of knowing that the lighthouse is still there besides you. And it will never leave. It is stronger than any storm. Mightier than any wind. Quicker than any wave. And more faithful that any promising doom. It will never leave your side. You just have to follow in its guiding footsteps and listen
for the fog horn to blow.


Love,
Becca =) <3