When the wind blew through her red hair and danced before her eyes while she was standing at the edge of the cliff watching her father's sailboat. That was when she knew the screeching seagulls and salty spray were all part of her. The crew and the wooden docks rotting away on the rocky shores. Where the sand met the water that was where she could sit. And feel the ocean reaching for her again and again. She felt welcome at the loading docks crammed with crab traps. She knew one day, she would own a tiny sailboat like her father. But she also knew she would be free.
Where the colors clashed at the bottom of the sky Where the mountains began And the waters subside Bumblebee yellow drips by, Periwinkle clouds Whose puffs call out To the open night. Crimson red in the corner, Honey orange frames The sides. What will come next, In this everchanging painters eye.
When I meditate and my breath goes in and out in and out in and o u t I feel myself collapse and then go rigid and then collapse again The waves underneath me create a rythm My hands placed upon my thighs, open to the sky. Almost pulling the clouds into myself. Letting, the moss creep up my toes and the sparrows nest on my shoulders. I meditate until I am nothing, and that is when I am everything and then I am back on my rug with a new song playing and my hands are pausing the music, and the waves are gone. A gift of nature. A thank to life. To Meditate.