Someone, Always There

As she sits, swaying on the swing, the sunlight ripples across her face through the branches.  The grass gently tickles her feet while she drifts back and forth.  She gazes into the horizon, watching the sunset.  Another day is passing.  Her eyes close and she hears the birds singing, sprinklers sputtering in the distance, and the creaking of the swing ropes under the old willow tree.  The sway of the swing grows smaller, and she can't keep going, as her feet can't touch the ground.  The end of the ride is coming, just as is the end of the day, so she'll simply take in the scenery while it lasts.  Perhaps she will return tomorrow and renew her joy with the rising sun.  In the dark she feels alone, but she doesn't have to be.  Together we could gaze upon the stars and the heavens as we lay beneath the old willow tree.  And when the rising morning sun returns, she can swing again, and I will never leave her side.

She

She is incomprehensible.  Her presence pokes my brain provoking cooling embers to kindle and re-ignite.  In and out of my life she comes and goes as the tide to a sandy beach.  And as the beach when the tide is in, I am softened, wet, and moldable.  But when she is gone, I am dry and only able to be blown away and about by the winds of life.  I cannot move, so I must accept these things or be miserable.  

By day I am warmed by sunlight - peace comes upon me as the heat sustains.  Sunset comes and I gaze, fixated by it's beauty - I am satisfied.  By night I am not yet alone, for the moon reflects the sun, and it's light with the stars as angels guide me in the midst of darkness.  i am not lost without the sun, for I know that he has only gone away to comfort the distant shores beyond my horizon.  I am never in true darkness.

When the sun returns, oh the glory it shows - brilliance in the sunrise, and the sands upon my surface are warm again.  While the ocean is untamable, the sun is constant.  But if you look beyond the surface and dig into my shore, even though the sand on which you stand is dry, you will still find water.  Even though she comes and goes, you will still find her in the depths near my soul, even if only faintly underneath the surface.  She is the paradox of distant presence, and as long as the tide comes and goes, the water by my soul will never dry up.

Passenger Window

Soft, meandering thoughts of nothingness pass through my mind, like the passing trees and power lines outside my passenger window.  I am free of the bustle and stress that cause my mind to race, but ironically I am at a lack of something to focus upon.  And so my mind lazily wanders from distant thought to thought, like the lazy up and down of the slack between the power polls.  Thoughts linked by randomness, ongoing seemingly without direction.  It's peaceful.