We stream on color: blue, aquamarine,
dove grey. To look straight down gives vertigo,
but farther out the surface seems serene,
both concentration and reflective flow.
Horizons offer us expanse”confine
us, also. Every wavelet, though unique,
resembles all. The latitudes decline;
there’s almost no dusk, southward. In a week,
we’ll sail past the equator; Capricorn
lies next. ”Around us, vast capacity,
dark mouths of nothingness! The old god’s horn
still sounds somewhere, perhaps, beneath the sea.
Is Churchill America’s Hero? (ft. Sean McMeekin)
In this episode, Sean McMeekin joins R. R. Reno on The Editor’s Desk to talk about his…
The West Distorted
G. K. Chesterton’s novel The Flying Inn begins with a strange seaside encounter involving one Misysra Ammon,…
Does Just War Doctrine Require Moral Certainty?
Pope Leo XIV has made it clear that the U.S. war on Iran does not, in his…