it seems so simple to walk,
to place one foot before the other
in the world,
to do so without thought
is to miss the gift
of all that is on offer:
do you see the world,
the flowers in their vibrant blooms,
the faces of those on their porches
turned up to the sun,
do you hear the laughter
of the children at play,
do you stretch out your senses
to feel the calm of the nature,
do you allow yourself to become one
with all that surrounds,
do you let yourself
know peace
Tag: peace
Losing Yourself
my feet are in the water, the waves move easy over my ankles, they feel the broken shells, pebbles, sand and larger rocks beneath the surface; my face stretches up to the warmth of the afternoon sun, I don't feel the early spring water's aching rattling my bones, nor the gentle breeze passing through my hair; I close my eyes to the blue expanse shimmering towards an endless horizon, I am lost in the peace of this moment
Land’s End
With cool fingers the water rose up to meet his bare ankles. As he stepped further, it moved up his calves, undulating beneath his knees with the incoming tide.
The afternoon sun burned across the water in a fiery shimmer. He turned towards its warmth and shut his eyes.
He knew what was out past the island at the point of Land’s End: an endless canvas of blue possibility. He turned his head up to the sun and took a deep breath, exhaling it he melted into the water.
Everything fell from his shoulders: doubt’s constant nagging, his worry over his family, the upheaval happening at the office, the miles he’d traveled to get here. He felt light for the first time in months. The only thought that entered his brain was that if his feet weren’t held down by the water he might float away.
Happiness enveloped all of him in a warm embrace he had only known glimpses of in the past six months. His was a good life, but this was something else. He hadn’t had any idea he needed it. The car had entered the parking lot, and he’d been pulled toward the water line. Before he knew what was happening he was removing his shoes and socks and rolling up the pant legs of his jeans.
It felt so good. He felt connected. He belonged to this place. He heard nothing, but the gentle lapping of the waves upon the shore. He didn’t feel the eyes of the tourists staring in disbelief at this man up to his knees in the cold Atlantic in May.
He kept taking deep breaths. He wanted to soak it all in, make sure it reached the deepest parts of himself. He’d needed this feeling. He’d needed to come home.