Strange Lands
Rushing, wooshing. Cool, dark, gritty, soft, wet. I open my eyes. The sky is deep in slumber tonight, its waves of purple and midnight blue yielding no stars, no moon.
Where am I?
I look to my left, feeling the unmistakable grate of sand beneath me. It shifts, filling my ears. Distracted, I listen, wondering. Can I hear the slow hum of the Earth, warm in its breathing and beating like a mother's breast? Or is that simply the waves before me, rushing, wooshing, foaming, crashing? Or is it my own chest that's beating; is it my own chest that's playing it's rhythm into the dancing grains of sand?
I open my eyes, forgetting I had closed them. Gray sand stretches into the heavens, though I can't see their gathering point; where the mist of dark is stripped away, and we see crystal tears fall as Sky embraces Earth.
Yes, I see nothing.
I sit up, and marvel momentarily at my strange clothes. I wear black sweatpants.
No shirt. No shoes. I find no discomfort in the lack of either, but I wonder where I must be for neither shirts nor shoes to matter. By the damp heaviness, I know they're wet, as is my hair. Why? How?
Does it matter?
The world around me is silent but for the waves of the discontented sea and my own ragged breaths. My heart beats quicker at the emptiness, my brain finally seeming to remember the merits of panic. Pushing myself up, I look around once more as if the slightly higher vantage point would reveal something new. Needless to say, it doesn't, but still my panic increases. Oh, to be sure, it is beautiful...this world. The sky and sea mingle together in a smooth and formless deep blue, gray sand runs with infinity with the lands lying blank in slumber behind me, but most impressive of all is the timeless tranquility: whispering soft words and a soundless lullaby, it gently urges me to lie down once more as it had found me, saying I must think – no, fear no more.
Yet, I fear. What is this place? What is this silence? What is this plainness?
I take a step, feeling and hearing the sand trickle over my bare foot, the fickle things unjustly whining. I ignore this though; something more important had emerged with this movement.
Stones.
Blank stones have appeared in utter silence between the now stilled sea waters. They look like holes, black and bottomless, possibly pulling me down to the depths of hell.
Hell. Hmm. What is hell again?
No matter – I look to the stones. They don't move, yet they form a path leading beyond the dark horizon, disappearing as they move on and on. Do I dare?
Slowly, my foot lands on the abyss nearest to the coast. It feels cool, smooth, and stubbornly solid beneath me. My other foot lands, and I discover the stones are just large enough for those two feet. I move on and on with the winding path of dark stones, gliding through a world cemented in time.
Am I the only one that breathes? Am I the only one that lives?
I walk, never knowing, never ceasing. Soon enough, I feel the sandy infinite disappear behind me. I don't need to look back, somehow. It is enough to feel the massive, watching presence fade away in its meloncholy way, knowing how its transient tenderness will soon be forgotten as I plunge forward step by trembling step.
Where am I?
I look to my left, feeling the unmistakable grate of sand beneath me. It shifts, filling my ears. Distracted, I listen, wondering. Can I hear the slow hum of the Earth, warm in its breathing and beating like a mother's breast? Or is that simply the waves before me, rushing, wooshing, foaming, crashing? Or is it my own chest that's beating; is it my own chest that's playing it's rhythm into the dancing grains of sand?
I open my eyes, forgetting I had closed them. Gray sand stretches into the heavens, though I can't see their gathering point; where the mist of dark is stripped away, and we see crystal tears fall as Sky embraces Earth.
Yes, I see nothing.
I sit up, and marvel momentarily at my strange clothes. I wear black sweatpants.
No shirt. No shoes. I find no discomfort in the lack of either, but I wonder where I must be for neither shirts nor shoes to matter. By the damp heaviness, I know they're wet, as is my hair. Why? How?
Does it matter?
The world around me is silent but for the waves of the discontented sea and my own ragged breaths. My heart beats quicker at the emptiness, my brain finally seeming to remember the merits of panic. Pushing myself up, I look around once more as if the slightly higher vantage point would reveal something new. Needless to say, it doesn't, but still my panic increases. Oh, to be sure, it is beautiful...this world. The sky and sea mingle together in a smooth and formless deep blue, gray sand runs with infinity with the lands lying blank in slumber behind me, but most impressive of all is the timeless tranquility: whispering soft words and a soundless lullaby, it gently urges me to lie down once more as it had found me, saying I must think – no, fear no more.
Yet, I fear. What is this place? What is this silence? What is this plainness?
I take a step, feeling and hearing the sand trickle over my bare foot, the fickle things unjustly whining. I ignore this though; something more important had emerged with this movement.
Stones.
Blank stones have appeared in utter silence between the now stilled sea waters. They look like holes, black and bottomless, possibly pulling me down to the depths of hell.
Hell. Hmm. What is hell again?
No matter – I look to the stones. They don't move, yet they form a path leading beyond the dark horizon, disappearing as they move on and on. Do I dare?
Slowly, my foot lands on the abyss nearest to the coast. It feels cool, smooth, and stubbornly solid beneath me. My other foot lands, and I discover the stones are just large enough for those two feet. I move on and on with the winding path of dark stones, gliding through a world cemented in time.
Am I the only one that breathes? Am I the only one that lives?
I walk, never knowing, never ceasing. Soon enough, I feel the sandy infinite disappear behind me. I don't need to look back, somehow. It is enough to feel the massive, watching presence fade away in its meloncholy way, knowing how its transient tenderness will soon be forgotten as I plunge forward step by trembling step.