Blest, they are the truly blest who all their lives have never tasted devastation. For others, once the gods have rocked a house to its foundations the ruin will never cease, cresting on and on from one generation on throughout the race - like a great mourning tide driven on by savage northern gales, surging over the dead black depths roiling up from the bottom dark heaves of sand and the headlands, taking the storm’s onslaught full force, roar, and the low moaning echoes on and on…