In From The Ocean

So I just took a bubble bath in a whipping storm.
I know, I know, of all people the girl who was struck by lightning in the tub should know better, right?
Ohhhhh, but you don't understand the warmth of it.
The deliciousness.
Our bathroom is out on a ledge. Part of the house tacked on as an afterthought.
Propped up from the ground on a large pair of stilts.
At night when it is dark and stormy, and the bathroom is lit up brightly, it's like I'm bobbing out at sea in the most glorious way.
Being up so high gives a type of buoyancy.
The wind screams past outside and somehow in this fragile, collapsible room I am more safe than ever.
A streetlight in the distance is another boat, braving the storm.
And I float and I gasp and I sink under.
Towards the end I turn the taps on hard and sink under the water.
Everything crashing and pounding and tearing at my body.
The thunder and vibrations taking over all.
And then to come back up, blistering hot, and feel the chill rapping on the windows, the wind trying to find a way in...
it's just beautiful.

Sometimes I wonder if all God sees when he looks at the world is beauty.
I find it so hard not to see beauty.
In everything.
And often I feel like someone is there sharing it with me in the exact same magical way.
And I think it must be God.
And I think we must be friends.
Siblings.
Lovers.
Fighters.

You know I firmly believe that the end of the world is near?
That within the next 20 years there will be nothing left?
Or at least a raging world war, more devastating than any other, leading to the end.

And you know...I find beauty in that, too.
I'm so excited for life even in the darkest of times.

It starts with less than a bubble bath.
It starts with the birth of a thought.

Atom crash.
Actually I don't know where it begins.