Away

Your life is rich, full,
not so much with things
as people and hearts that share more than time,
that share their hearts and minds
in sparkling conversations,
people
whose presence both fill your heart
and drain your spirit

And so you yearn for the rarest commodity,
silence, long brooding stretches of time
where the only conversations
are between you and your God,
time when you are allowed to be empty,
with no expectations except to be,
no schedules, no needs, no promises to be kept,
just you and your pen and a mind
at rest.

About this poem.

I have had a yearning for the sea lately.

The picture was taken in Tintagel, England, one of my two favorite places on earth. (The other is Venice.)

Tom