I’ve sat down with a tiny keyboard on a bench next to the sea. Sheltered by a sparce row of gale hardened trees as the wind whines and whales at their existence.
The sun ever so gently warms my back through a blanket of clouds. The swept peaks of the waves slapping the sharp rocks jutting out of the water.
Time’s meaning seems to have blown away here on this remote stretch of the country. The tourists don’t come on the off season. Even if there are residence I have seen non. Holed up out of sight, behind closed curtains perhaps they hide.
And here I sit, by myself filled with a startling feeling of serenity. The wind plays with my hair like a lover on a lazy Sunday morning. Bathed in a lullaby of birdsong and whirs and whistles through the trees.
How deeply I cherish these places, the moments in which I can drift away. To become utterly enraptured, present in beautiful simplicity.
All those beautiful swirls I see, a logical harmony, my heart can hear nature’s symphony in its entirety. How deeply I love her music that can’t writen down.
Perhaps I am too much of a romantic pinning after momentary natural peace, like a junky seeks relief through a hit or a business man satiates his fears through greed.
Who am I to judge, an ignorant animal wandering like all the others. All the answers which I asked have led me here, a remote stretch of windswept coast. All the ones that still remain no longer haunt me the same way. All the other ones can wait a little longer today.