A welcoming place of solitude
is the vast expanse of any beach,
a place to reflect, to think, to daydream
when not a single soul is around,
a place which beckons only to those
in need of silent, uninterrupted meditations.
Here one can sit, stare off into the horizon,
completely losing oneself in thought,
appearing like there in body but not in mind.
Here one can listen to the wondrous symphony
of the wave sets rolling in toward the shoreline,
some rising in crescendo the closer they come,
others more quietly, almost tentatively approaching,
the latter almost reminiscent of something incomplete.
The rhythm remains steadfastly constant,
every two or three seconds a new set of waves,
some pounding the shore with a roar,
eating away just a little more of it,
others lapping at the shoreline, seemingly coy,
almost afraid to touch the sands.
Like the sands of the beach, feelings can ebb away,
all in good time is what they say.
Sometimes remembrance is necessary.
Lessons once learned are learned again.
Needed is this calming influence
of the waves rolling in to shore.
Needed is the ability to let go.
Needed is the aide of the spirits
who can be heard if one listens intently.
Breathe in deeply to catch
the fragrant sea air.
Become one with the environment.
Allow these feelings, these thoughts, to be released.
Sometimes it seems these feelings will never leave,
but instead a continuous nagging emptiness
lingers deep down inside. So to spend the night
in reflection on the beach till the sun raises
its face above the horizon in the east,
seems to be the only recourse,
to await the beginning of a new day
to face the knowledge of what was once there
is no longer, to settle for how things now are
and to tuck away those feelings deep
in the heart and mind, to places
hoping soon to be forgotten so that no feeling,
no thought of this comes again
but knowing the love once felt will always be there.
The distance is great though still feels so near.
One time sitting in reflection will not be enough,
because the knowledge is there.
It will work itself deep down inside
but there will be many, many trips to the beach,
to sit alone, watching, thinking, listening,
knowing that one small corner of the heart
will always belong to another
no matter how much time passes.
It is something that will be carried always.
But still the need remains ever constant,
always there to forget, or to come to terms,
accentuated with the sound of each new set of waves
rolling in continuously, losing oneself in their symphony.
This place is best in the early hours of the morning
when there is little chance of human interruption,
giving the spirit, the mind the chance to put all aside.
But still one will reflect, will think, will wonder,
about things now past, about that someone who now
may be at his beach, watching, listening to the waves there, too.
the wolf is my messenger
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will be known by the tracks
we leave behind."
© January 16, 2000, by louve14
last revised 20 august 2004
all rights reserved