Here, where the horses graze and the stream makes its course known,I find freedom. In the lap of the green pastures and mystifying unknown banks, pebbles rotund where the water's passionate kisses lie ample. Like ripened, luscious fruits, sons of the sun.
I meditate, under the halcyon shade of the leaves. Self-possessed in bucolic ramblings.
I make love to my spirit. Slowly and languidly. Planting one kiss at a time.
Elated like a fickle, little butterfly, I surrender.
What an orchestra nature is!
The leaves, the song of the creek. Chirping and buzzing to make me believe.
Solemnly, I visualize the distinctive line between the sea and the shore. Slowly fading. Talking. Telling stories of those that strayed its path, some plunged head-on, suavely some floated alone. The water drank up their stories but the shore stored them, carefully beneath the pebbles.
The crane dips its beak, to quench its thirst. My thirst for freedom is unquenchable, its depth feverishly imaginative and arcanely unknown.
Under the cranes wing I find thee.
In its flight I find me.