On our recent cruise around the coast of New Zealand we deviated into the Pacific Ocean to visit a volcanic island known as White Island. It was the blackest thing I'd ever seen!
But the sky was white so I publish it for SKYWATCH FRIDAY!
We sailed around White Island into approaching night
And the sunset wasn't fiery; in sympathy it was white.
And the puff of volcanic smoke was white like the breath of a mighty beast,
And the clouds were echoing sun and smoke as our backs were to the east.
But the island wasn't white at all, regardless of its name!
It was heavy, black and Gothic like the depths from which it came.
But deep inside White Island, as we were sailing by,
We knew that mighty forces were yearning for the sky.
For the centre is made of sun-stuff and it's longing to return,
And, when it does, the sea and sky will burst into flame and burn!