Our steed was the Sikorsky SH-3,
a vigilant bird of burden.
Our lance was either two Mk-46 torpedoes
or our mace was single B57 nuclear depth charge.

The dragons were Soviet submarines,
and their fire was ICBM missiles
that could level entire cities.

We flew with a crew of four—
a pilot and copilot, both officers,
who steered the steed with quiet resolve,
and two enlisted crewmen in the back,
guardians of the unseen,
operating sophisticated electronic equipment

that could locate, track,
and, if called upon, strike submerged vessels.

We did not seek glory.
We sought silence.
And in that silence, we carried fire we prayed would never be lit.

The Ordinary Path is lit for those who seek mercy, memory, and meaning. You may                                                                                                                                                                                    subscribe below to receive new offerings. Your presence is never demanded, always                                                                                                                                                                                    honored.

If this offering stirred something in you—
a memory,
a question,
a flicker of light—
you are welcome to share
your reflection below.
No need for eloquence.
No need for certainty.
Just a lantern,
gently placed.