Here is perfect
The wind blows right through me and suddenly I am light as air, with the air that constantly tangles
through the rickety old planks of wood, pulling my hair back and leaving me gripped on the edge.
I like it. I seem to forget all that troubles my mind as at last I am at one, at peace, and a part of
something so natural, so beautiful , so simple. The worries of knowing enough, having enough and
being enough drift just as forcefully as the wind runs at me. I run at it. I like the feeling of knowing just how insignificant day to day worries are, and just how insignificant we all are. Being here
reminds me, I always leave half-heartedly – wanting more. And I am secretly selfish when I see it is busy, wishing the people away. I want to be alone. I want to marvel at the simplicity of sunlight
scattered across the shore, upon the temperamental waves, carved messaged to loved ones on the wooden sides, and the wind that picks up so high sometime I feel l can no longer breathe.
I wish there was a pier closer to me.