March 2, 2015

The stories are popping out of my day. The places that I am not going in my physical state but I am visiting in my dreams and daytime visions. Complete with tastes and smells, I am standing by the ocean. Sand filling the space between my toes, pebbles forming to skin, leaving small circles. I can smell the salt and wet breeze of spray, licking my lips I can taste the foam that stays on the shore. Deep breaths in, I spend the day in nature’s company. Seagull frenzy, whoosh and pull of waves meditate me into relaxation. I am part of the scenery, changing colors and matching the golden hue of crystalline energy. These story book pages weave me in, erasing how I got here or when I leave. Picking pieces of weeds, shell crumbs and skeletal fragments, I build structures that will be reclaimed by nightfall. Knee deep, wading, my clothes crusted with salt and immersed again to the aquamarine. My skin is absorbing, expelling the worries of not being enough, sucking up the color of coral. Adventures to the bottoms, I travel to the darkest to find what is necessary. Savoring the cool collect of underlings, the curious shapes that used to haunt me. I can sense it around me, in the midst of a daily hum, the ocean comes too.