The Never Ending Rhythm
I made it to the West coast again... I am drawn here and not only because the sounds drown out my severe, distracting tinnitus. What is it about waves? We tend to count them, don't we? And we notice every seven seem louder or every six seem smaller, or. . .We find the patterns and they are everywhere. We get entranced in the wild rhythms, the not quite even repetition, like palpitations in our breast. And we wonder who walked this shore and touched the exact sand particles that we are touching now or perhaps nobody ever before has. The colours are gentle contrasts but expansive, so powerful. And we feel both like king of the island yet insignificant in the grand scheme of things. We wish we were the belugas making our home in the sea or just a gull perched in solitude above the cold, crashing of reality. Yet here we are, finding peace in turmoil where the waves meet the earth. And we look out to where the heavens meet the horizon. And we feel God.