Weariness besets me … Respite becomes my desire.
Where to run … what Sanctuary to claim … becomes my abiding concern.
To the Forest’s whispering Pine needles … filtering the breeze;
Majestic mountain … barrier to all intrusion … bulwark against insult;
Where to run … what Sanctuary to claim … becomes my abiding concern.
To the Forest’s whispering Pine needles … filtering the breeze;
Majestic mountain … barrier to all intrusion … bulwark against insult;
Perhaps a meadow … soft pillows of thickly woven grasses;
Or by the stream … to be carried gently away on gurgling eddies;
I consider the Lake … sometime as silk … mysterious and deep
And on the whim of a moment, stirred by storms and ominous.
Or by the stream … to be carried gently away on gurgling eddies;
I consider the Lake … sometime as silk … mysterious and deep
And on the whim of a moment, stirred by storms and ominous.
None will do … none accomplish the comfort and sanctum of the Sea.
Take me there … place me in the rhythm of untiring waves.
Allow rivulets of foaming surf to sweep all vestige of confusion away.
Massage my Soul in the power of Her grasp and pull.
Take me there … place me in the rhythm of untiring waves.
Allow rivulets of foaming surf to sweep all vestige of confusion away.
Massage my Soul in the power of Her grasp and pull.
Serenade me with Her thunderous bass undertones,
Flood my senses with Her pulsing froth of reassuring constancy.
‘Tis to the Sea that I must go … where the deluge of overwhelming might
eclipses all of life’s pettiness … and washes all conflict and doubt away.
Flood my senses with Her pulsing froth of reassuring constancy.
‘Tis to the Sea that I must go … where the deluge of overwhelming might
eclipses all of life’s pettiness … and washes all conflict and doubt away.
Here, in the bosom of Creation, I know Peace … I find Quiet.
Here, as nowhere else, all that is Me unwinds, opens, and allows a sigh.
I trust the Sea … somehow … from some unspecified place …
I have a certainty and complete confidence in Her reliability.
She is Home.
Here, as nowhere else, all that is Me unwinds, opens, and allows a sigh.
I trust the Sea … somehow … from some unspecified place …
I have a certainty and complete confidence in Her reliability.
She is Home.
IMAGES through the gracious courtesy of (top/Yosemite) Jon Sullivan, PDPhoto.org, (all others [Storm Clouds/Irish Sea]) Ian Britton, FreeFoto.com
15 comments:
Ah Yes JM!
Down to the sea I must go.
They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters; These see the works of the LORD, and his wonders in the deep. For he commandeth, and raiseth the stormy wind, which lifteth up the waves thereof. They mount up to the heaven, they go down again to the depths: their soul is melted because of trouble. They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man, and are at their wits' end. Then they cry unto the LORD in their trouble, and he bringeth them out of their distresses. He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still. Then are they glad because they be quiet; so he bringeth them unto their desired haven.
Psalms, 107:23-30,
Thank You, Dear Aims.
Lovingly ...
what an evocative musing on the wonders of nature. i feel your weariness and pain and i hope you have escaped to the sea for a while. stand in the surf and let your sadness flow out into the tides so they can be carried away.
peace, my friend.
You know me well!
namaste, Sweet Lime.
I can soooo, relate to that.
The ocean is my home, and I miss it dearly living in the middle of the UK.
My dream is to retire by the sea, somewhere near I was brought up in Oz.
Yet another thread in the Fabric of our Spiritual Kinship, my Dear Trixie.
Lovingly ...
I live very near to the coast and can see the ocean from the fields in which I often tread.
I have been feeling particularly low recently and these fields have helped me to pick myself up again and brush myself down. The sea is always there, hovering in the background.
Crystal xx
Your recently shared views, Crystal, Dear Friend, have ministered to my own present struggle with a low state. I have relished them and your accompanying Spirit.
Gratefully loving ...
Lovely. Between the photos and the text, I can almost smell the salt air. Intoxicating fragrance that is, too.
Delighted to provide the sensations, Jim. And we didn't consume a drop of petrol in the journey. Amen!
Love Ya, Friend ...
For whatever we lose (like a you or a me), it's always our self we find in the sea.
~e.e. cummings
The ocean, always ends, right where it begins. "She is home" That she is, John-Michael.
Hugs
I bid you "Welcome home," Dear Sandra.
Lovingly ...
What an appropriate post I just read, as I'm traveling back to my rotts today for a few days. Ever aware "you can't go home again". ALL has changed people gone, places changed. Somehow it does not stay the same as long ago memories live on. One place I will visit is the family cemetary & place flowers there for those who have gone before me & remember our times together. Recalling old times is painful as well as being very good for the soul. I will not smell the salt air but I will look out over the huge lake from my childhood. It always makes me feel so insignificant compared to its majesty. And walk down memory lane for a while. Thank you John-Michael for its almost like you read my mind & knew what I needed today.
ooopppps roots
Knowing that the path that I walk is not an isolated one is gratifying. Thank you, Anonymous Friend, for letting me know that we share this walk. I am pleased to make your way better as well.
namaste ...
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