Sky meets the Sea

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The sky covered in imminent shrouded gray cumulus,

temperature steeply lowering on fierce north, northeastern wind.

Moist air brought along, seeping into the cloth of garment,

slowly but steadily dispersing into the skin.

Feet parading on elephant pathways made by wild horses,

highlanders, foxes and ferrets, mice and rabbits.

Roads through the buckthorns and broom,

leading past dune pansies, first blooming poppies,

the tiny flowers of wild yellow orchids, white parnassia.

-

-

Relative silence on the land side of the sea board,

now and then overwhelmed by a flux of wind raging in.

White sands of last winters breaches in the majestic heaps,

form the last climb towards where the sea meets the sky.

Lights from shrimp fishing boats dance on the outward surf,

here the wind rages tonnes of sand over the beachhead.

Here’s where I sit myself between brooms and sand,

watch the light of day dissipate into the shimmering.

-

-

My heart pounding is what I hear on my insides,

whilst the surf and winds sounds howl on the ears.

The veiled skies more slowly darken,

as if the droplets hold on to last photons received.

I breathe, let the air in on its natural force of flow,

my blood rages through its arteries,

as if the veined system has become a true heat source.

-

It doesn’t take long for the trembling forces to set in.

Automated my muscles become and perform,

only when too intense, I stretch the limbs, for a rest.

And as I do so first the grinning begins,

transforming into all out laughter,

when again I give in to the existence of tremble.

Tickled I am from the inside, and hellos

with spirited loved ones are exchanged.

-

One voice is clearest, and makes me really listen.

Until I ask on the insides how do you shiver,

as if a how do you do, do you do it too?

The answer comes from within, in guffaw,

merriment in all of my muscles.

Joy in such abundance it seems as pain,

like jawbones and joints may hurt from howling glee.

-

Because of the cloud covered skies,

the day takes much longer to become night,

but when the dusk has set, I walk to the waves.

Cold is this evening, stone cold the sand,

the first touch of water seems only slightly warmer,

but the fierceness of the waves soon makes the muscles ache.

-

Standing, the trembling transforms into a shivering,

too hard to handle, even the pain from the cold water,

cannot be felt any longer, time to leave the waves,

that although their fierceness dance gently with my feet.

My own voice of self-preservation now commands,

get out of this cold, get out of the water, now!

-

As I walk back towards the white sands,

now lit by the white light of a clouded night,

to become warm, I draw a circle and a star,

with my bare feet, singing on the inside.

Voices that send my love with the winds.

-

I watch the seas from the hilltop

for a last time this night,

than I head back, through the darkened dunes.

Where shadows indeed become individuals,

to which my voice says good night,

and to my wonder I’m greeted back.

-

No animals are present now,

silence and darkness prevails.

My path lit by shades and shadows,

flowerbeds of blackberries,

seemingly much more abundant,

than during daytime.

-

Though I know my ways around here,

this stroll is adventure,

and though the paths laid out

are also indicators,

I recline to follow ‘m.

Only on my inner voice,

helped by a choir concert,

any turn is taken, any step is made.

-

Wondrous how suggestive

the mind is by night.

For that is the echo, that tries to say,

you’re almost there.

The heart knows the path is longer,

and keeps the blood pumping,

muscles keep contracting,

feet have become real senses now,

seeking for ground through the low shrubs.

-

-

In the pitch dark I’m lit now.

Lights from the inhabited World,

but the voices in me keep singing,

they tell me stories of even longer paths.

Roads that will come, that are next.

As I step in an old and abandoned rabbit hole,

of which the sand walls have become unstable.

-

A knock on my shoulder, feels as a tree,

but there isn’t one.

I scan the area, yes I say, out loud,

I’m there, here is my house out of sand.

-

V

06–03–2016