I want to walk through the seasons here to see the elements change the landscape. To feel the autumn rains on my skin, to understand the insignificant spaces between everything. 

Humility, how it sweeps through my soul. How the changes forced upon me are now the very reason I’m here lost in places full of understanding. 

My dreams are still my dreams each one born from cherished moments, but in my waking hours I leave them in  their place. 

I can’t see the big sky from here, the city lights void of atmosphere polluting the night. The roads built to bring everything close just fill the air with noise. 

Vulnerability is the balance we’ve insisted upon. In a world where yesterday fills the landfills of tomorrow. I can’t find my place. 

I am of the sea, finding solace in the tide.

I adore this place. I’m soaked in peace here.  Every knot, every regret  every unspoken word is free to roam by my side. 

I’m inspired here. The landscape swallows me and the nature that surrounds me is breathtaking. It’s not a sense of awe, but a sense of just being part of it, blending in. Salt and time. How the sea has changed the colours of everything it’s touched and how it’s been forgiven for those changes.

How many years has the sea caressed these rocks. 

I wish we faded this way. 

“And every word you burn to write, is a mark that you must own” 

That’s the thing with words you’ve written, they will always belong to you. I think that’s why I love to write. Like a map of emotions, mine always lead to the same place. Sometimes days pass and I don’t have much to say, but I could write constantly. Life gets in the way and I forget the poetry that comes to mind. It always comes back though. Quiet times are full of verses. Hearing the ebb of the tide on the pebbles or the gulls overhead. It’s not always about what I’m hearing or seeng, but about the thoughts they evoke. Like fabrics and perfume, beautiful splinters in the soul.

I do burn to write. To set aside time doesn’t work, because you cannot plan those sparks. 

Still dark as the season fades. I face it with a sense of regret. 

Long after I’ve passed you’ll be there bathed in dappled sunlight. Your secrets firmly rooted in the soil. I’ve rested in your shade, I’ve escaped the deluge of seasons here in your presence. I’ve wrapped my limbs around yours and felt the scars of this existence melt away. 

If I could pick a place, a place where love outweighs greed. Where silence and peace are not frowned upon nor noise a necessity. Where one smile is a thousand beautiful chapters in my endless heart. I’d fall silent beside you. 

You still touch me. 

Two hours sleep, but a head full of thoughts. Those thoughts will eventually become engraved on white sheets, ink so deep it never fades. 

The words still excite me. 

Does love exist without pain, does anything? Do hopes just fade when unfulfilled? Or do we hide them secretly, boxes of lost hope scattered amongst our dreams. Does hope have a resting place? 

Time capsules buried in the dirt emitting the lost words into the soil. Intoxicating the earth with unspoken desires. Maybe that’s why some roses grow profusely, and moisture collects on unfurling petals.

I’d exhume those thoughts, buried in a moment of emptiness. I’d wash those pages clean. Nothing said with an honest heart should ever be kept in such darkness. 

From the train window I see trampolines sprouting from every back yard. Keeping up with the Joneses, is a matter of how high you bounce. Hideous objects, like a cage of the modern age. The landfill of future generations. 

The football banter from the seat behind, tedious conversation. The copy and paste dialogue from every side. There’s no earplug invented to drown out that drone. Timeless warriors sponsored by Sky. 

I focus on my destination and how the calm will wash away these knotted limbs. The second stop is mine, just a platform to conquer and a ticket machine to feed. 

I can smell the sea air as my signal falls away to this blissful release. 

With daylight dreams fade, that winding river I found disappears with the siren’s urgency. Noise,  the human condition showing its muscles. I sit surrounded by nature content but disenchanted with my species. This urge to escape never leaves my side, like a detached shadow leading the way. 

My bones ache for a better place and not “making the best of what you’ve got” that generic advice that we bow down to. What I have is a desire to walk away, away from these constant battles. Hatred has no resolve it feeds on our fears. Evil ideology has no logic and only in acknowledgment will it gain fruition.