This life moves us gently, rocking on the small waves of a quiet bay. Light glitters and shines, reflecting moments as we stop for awhile and just absorb the ebb and flow, riding the energy of the earth.
Like a spark of light that gives hope, or a simple word of support to guide along, the rocking water holds us softly, and it feels like a lullaby alive, smooth and carefree beneath the sun on a cool morning, washing each care away as we watch the passing ships go by, their wake slowing as they near and I wonder where they are going to, smiling faces rushing by on their way to wider ocean water, where they will ride the waves that crash, yet here, right now we are enclosed between mangrove trees with their roots holding them to the bottom, keeping them from falling away.
There is peace here, a hundred silver flecked fishes slapping the water ahead, making tiny splashing sounds to alert their presence as they too perhaps reach for the light, the shining place above. I breathe in and out as I glide, as I move unencumbered by the hurried pace of the day to day, by the thoughts that intrude that have somehow now slipped away to a place under the sea that we ride, you and I, shining.
Our first day today kayaking on the bay, seeing the fish below and moving silently through the mangroves, feeling the gentle sway as we rock on ripples, ah, sweet peace found.
She comes to me in this place of peace and solitude, a fish out of water perhaps, or just an accidental tourist searching for beauty. We wander through landscapes filled with magic, and I feel her eyes upon me as we move through corridors of color.
Perhaps she is a kindred spirit lost and found, shy of the surroundings and banked in her thoughts of oceans blue and colored fish that swim silently by. Her world is fluid and moving, a far cry from this garden that took so much work by so many hands. Each stem of green winding its way towards the sky, burdened by the weight of the blooms as they unfold, and yet here she hangs by silently watching as it all transpires around her, here is where she has been planted, so far from her restless sea.
I long to place a shell at her feet. To tell her all I’ve seen of her home, that I too know how it feels to be so far from the known, transported to a foreign land that is so beguiling and beautiful, that my feet have walked upon her homes sandy shores and of the views I became a part of as I swam above the waves while peering down below. The muse of the garden, silently watching and waiting for a sign, swimming in flowers, drowning above dirt.
Perhaps someday she will return, for now so far beyond the sea the siren has no song to sing for me, but perhaps on nights when the moon is full she will remember the words, hear the memory of the waves crashing, and she will sing. Yes, she will sing.
Come to me sweet Luna,
Carry my thoughts away into your peaceful light embrace,
Whisper to me of better days,
Days beneath the glow of a Spring sun that heals
With the sweetest kiss
Of a universe.
Come to me my moon,
Rest yourself above the sea
Reflect your magnificence upon my face
As I bask in the moment of calm
And your wind will wash me in its cleansing spirit,
A light that beckons to follow,
And a wave to wash at high tide
As you pull me into a better day,
I will walk in your shadow leaving silent indents on the sand
If only to remind you,
That I am saved by the sweet breath of midnight.
I sing praise to the life of the world
As it turns silently while we sleep and wake
I am refreshed in the scent of a solitary gardenia bloom as I pass,
Blessed truly, indeed.