All Else

Fog on the water. A greying of the morning.
The air still. The sea barely rippling.

There are people beginning their day.
You can hear them walking and driving behind you

but somehow they fade into nothingness,
not unlike a crowd during a kiss.

Where there is love. Where there is beauty,
all else disappears.

About this poem

I tend to lose myself in music, beauty, love and holy places. Abandoned places. God is generous and provides me with more of all these things than I probably deserve.

The picture was taken in Provincetown, Mass.

Tom