to soul places

I dig my toes into the sand.

The ocean looks like a thousand diamonds strewn across a
blue blanket.

I lean against the wind, pretend that I am weightless

And in this moment, I am happy…

 

 

Someone once told me that this song fit me perfectly. He
could not have said anything more comforting. If I can choose, I mean really
choose, and have complete control over all details of my life, and not think of
responsibility nor consequence, I’d live my life this way: Like a nomad, with the
world as my home.

 

I would climb many mountains and traverse valleys. Along the
way, I would shake many hands and share countless, wordless smiles. No language
will be a barrier. I will plant rice where the mud is rich and take fruit from
trees. I would dance in strange streets, love strange men. Sometimes I will
visit the cities, and there I will play, and leave them breathless.

 

But my favorite room would be the ocean. It is there where I
will make my bed. It is there where I would keep my treasures, and build my secrets.
It is there where I would rest, and let the salty breeze wash my soul clean
again. It is where the healing night will meet me. It is there where my dreams will
come and go with the tides, sometimes suddenly, frightfully, with a typhoon’s
gale. But mostly they will ride a gently lapping current, aboard tiny paper boats
and amidst floating candles. There I will bathe in the sun, and drink from the
rain, and listen to music my Maker has made for me.

 

My life has thus been made by:

The tracks of pawikan across coarse, white sand.

The moon, rising over a grove of coconut trees, huge and red
like the setting sun.

The hiss of sea snakes dropping from a cliff to hunt in the
sea.

Black limestone cliffs towering over sparkling blue-green
waters.

A comet streaking across the black sky, and my first glimpse
of the galaxy.

 

This is my home - where
I will lose myself, and find myself. Again and again and again.

 

 

I lay my head onto the sand.

The sky resembles a backlit canopy with holes punched in it.

I’m counting UFO’s.

I signal them with my lighter

And in this moment

I am happy, happy.

 

The world’s a roller coaster and I am not strapped in.

Maybe I should hold with care,but my hands are busy in the
air.

 

I wish you were here…