Murmuring Reef

(This was written recently by a young, educated native of Tonga— now a resident of Nukualofa.) DAY and night the reef murmurs.

Sometimes it is an exquisite whisp ering, hardly audible; sometimes it is a deep diapason, resonant and virile; but it is ceaseless.

To my familiar ears, the Innumerable murmurings of the reef form movements of a grand symphony, with life as its theme. Often have I listened to this sym phony, on lazy summer noons, with a light breeze caressing the lagoon, when it is a fantasy of merry sounds, exuber ant and carefree; on languorous, moonlit nights, with the moonlight like the ghostly white mist that haunts the mountain sides, when it is a wistful melody, thoughtful and melancholy; and on dark, stormy nights, with the wind moaning through the palm leaves, when it is a stirring finale, inspiring and majestic.

These movements interpret life in its bizzare reality.

A multitude of disconnected thoughts drift through my mind—pictures created by the strange beauty of this music of the reef; thoughts of the indecipherable purposes of existence, the shortness of life and its unreasonableness, the in stability of human institutions—of fame, power and wealth, the futile squabbles of nations, the petty differences in dogmas and creeds which lead man astray from Christlike simplicity, the rise and fall of empires, of good and evil, the Birth Con trol, the materialistic predilection of Western Civilisation, the sufferings caused by misunderstandings, of war and peace—these and a thousand other thoughts take form, intermingle, then dis solve to leave me in an uncertain state of confusion. And, day and night, the reef murmurs.