As I sit in crumbling sand, that’s laced between my toes,
The gentle breeze caresses my cheeks,
whilst the wind plays daintily with wisps of fringe.
Faces are but a distant silhouette in orange hue.
I watch as lights of oil rigs begin to glimmer, fishing boats cast off.
I’ll stay until they’re long dispersed.
My mind rages, lost in arduous thought,
some sweet, those of a care-free child.
Others plague with little retreat,
but I must remember, it shall pass.
Things will improve, for life bears light.
The worlds’ anxieties mock my breath.
I often fear anxiety’s grip will suffocate.
Climate change, discrimination,
crimes, hate and viral outbreaks,
all sordidly chastise my mind.
Mine, alongside countless others.
And though I give little credence to dogma,
I believe it should be our innate desire
to respect the world, be kind, encourage.
Strive to change the world for good,
Instill, in all, a heart of love.
My pragmatic mind tonight is restless,
it can’t help but be perplexed in awe.
Thwarted by skies that hold a billion, trillion mysteries, if not more.
Yet my soul stifles incomplete,
for the enormity of science lacks a heart.
So turn, I do, to aged word,
that a friend of mine gave, with strong allure
of promise, that this was, in fact, ‘the word’.
When questioned, she just gave a playful smile.
And thus tonight, my mind uneased, I shall begin.
Each word I read, like timeless poetry, resonates.
And how creation’s night coerces me to believe
a higher sentience, could be involved, as
diplomacy refuses to explain how bombs form life.
For, in my time, war has only ever conceived death.
Tonight, words and silence hold similar virtue.
Silence speaks of the immensity of a world that words can’t define.
Immensity far beyond the corners of knowledge,
and my mind, so easily shrouded by the immensity of life itself,
finds clarity and solace in absent speech.
In permitting myself, against the ideals of theories or science,
to look for words of infinite value,
I discover the word.
Where God, being, life and word are all one.
Where words are not merely essence but life,
and thoughts and language are, as alive, as I.
A golden orb now lingers on the watery horizon.
Its light omitting all darkness, and I,
I can’t help but think, if this sun is as the Son.
For as I rest in silence,
the wind gently ruffling the wisps of my hair,
A sense of peace running deep, beyond worldly comprehension.
For now, I shall sit.
I shall sit,
Copyright © charlotte watkins | Year Posted 2020