When the white fog burns off, the abyss of everlasting light is revealed. The last cobwebs of fog in the black firtrees are flakes of white ash in the world’s hearth. Cold of the sea is counterpart to this great fire. Plunging out of the burning cold of ocean we enter an ocean of intense noon. Sacred salt sparkles on our bodies. After mist has wrapped us again in fine wool, may the taste of salt recall to us the great depths about us.