After the Storm
The storm has blown itself away; there is a lighting of the sky.
The monstrous waves start to recede, and the ripples just pass on by.
The rocks find a new home from the pounding they have been given.
They come to rest haphazardly, as though so hard they have been driven.
The fence looks old, all gnarled and bent, a pathway almost hidden.
The footsteps - where have they come from - and to where are they now bidden?
An eerie cry - a sobbing sound - mixes harmoniously.
With the sound of seagulls squawking, now setting off back to sea.
The lights are lighting, one at a time, pinpricks of ghostly yellow.
The sobbing increases just slightly; a voice so soft and mellow.
‘Come follow me, a prize awaits,' it sings out on the breeze.
I find myself following it, my heart it seems to please.
I have never felt so fresh, my heart it seems to float.
I follow the pathway in the near dark; my being fills with hope.
What is it, that is calling me? Is sounds so sweet and near.
I stumble and realise I am soaked, but I am without any fear.
‘You are mine,’ says the voice so gentle and caressing.
The light seems to grow brighter, I feel an urgent need pressing.
I must find the source of this golden voice; its song fills my head.
I must press on the winding path before me, I feel I am being lead.
A shape that glows and points at me and opens its glowing arms wide.
I stop as fear overtakes me; I want to turn back, like the tide.
And then the shape embraces me, calms me and points behind.
There I am lying on the beach; am I now losing my mind?
‘Your journey is just starting,’ the voice tells me. ‘Come, we can not be late.’
“Still round the corner there may wait, a new road or a secret gate.”
Realisation comes to me as the shape pushes me onwards up the winding hill.
My earthly body I have left behind, but my adventure is in front of me still.
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