What is your calm?
Waves.
Rolling by the feet.
Soft, mellow,
A little sticky,
like the touch of a feather dipped in honey.
Today, they don't yearn for the skies,
Nor are they curious to unearth the unyielding rocks.
Pristine, they take on their own patterns,
One push and two laps, return.
Not hungry - to devour more land,
Nor tired, to lose themselves within the ocean.
Just constant.
Singular in rhythm.
Isn't consistency hypnotic?
It's lull pushing out it's thought,
Rebounding around its boundaries,
Never pushing them, nor loosing sight.
It's the oneness that calms me.
Sand, sea, living breathing creatures,
All dancing in the one rhythm.
For wherever there is symphony,
Everything comes together,
Every drop, binds us together into one push and two laps, return.
Isn't it strange,
How when you close your eyes to the rhythm,
You feel it grip you.
It grows, like a living entity.
Enveloping you,
Till you're the wave.
You're the sea,
You're the calm nothing.
And that's when the word calm ceases to have meaning.
For what you have, is beyond words.
It's the feeling of living
Without a body's boundaries.
One with the sand enveloping your feet,
One with the air ruffling you hair like your father used to,
One with the warm sun,
Embracing you with the tenderness your mother does.
One with the vast sky,
As endless as the beauty of the world before you.
One with yourself
For what is everything you know, but you?
Time ceases to have meaning beyond the body,
And as your eyes close,
With the solemn kiss of the innocent sleep;
Your ever expanding heart resounds with the rhythm,
One push and two laps, return.
