The pull of the day, of the years, of everyone’s needs leaves shadows and cavities from ebb’s never-ending taking, but the sun’s reflection warms me in oranges, and the glow stays. The light one way or another will illuminate, independent of ever reaching that haunted, hollowed space.
A detour, soulful tugging, I find myself impulsively knelt again on the white sands before the altar at an end of the earth, surf symphony rising predictably to greet me, but I casually look about for the signs He wanted me to again come ’round… between my toes ancient mountains ground to grains, quartz granules, sugar-soft, appropriate backdrop for the hieroglyph written for me: it freezes me.
So easily, I succumb to the enchantment of silence, save for those waves and occasional sea birds with personal messages calling. (It always baffles me how I can so often have this parcel of paradise to myself…) I stay a long, unhurried while just trying to feel what this enigmatic swirl of sea oat in the sand is all about… Something about curves is always so sensuous, aesthetically strokes my soul… I don’t need a translation; in fact, I prefer this sacredly-carved symbol. I make it my own and add it to my collection of clues leading me leisurely home. It is the journey after all, and I have nowhere else to go.
Moments drip drop, first molecules floating to fall, and when the basin is filled, our time is up.
Let me taste each one individually upon my upturned mouth.
May I spend the least amount in flood or drought, paned, sheltered or drowned.
Let me feel it all though; to offer an umbrella or call me inside is to deny me each elixir dose to my soul’s life.
Moments shared with others, even fleeting in passing, make up the ocean of emotion that fills and propels me most deeply.
When the last sun sets, I know I cannot take any drops with even though they became a part of my very composition, but heaven is in the clouds for a reason, and I believe from these drops within, another birthing will begin…
Saving grace, whole heart back in your arms, you hold all of me as me; I never knew how non-words could feel the best route. Unspoken is our reset, mutual forgiveness, moving on but not leaving anything unaddressed. We understand, silent resolutions, in the simple language of love.
Do you mind if I stay extra near awhile, to just exist in this balance, a respite from the drama of being so much?
Sometimes (more often than not), I exhaust myself with this wild heart and wild soul I house.