“The creative act is not hanging on, but yielding to new creative movement.” -Joseph Campbell
The earth takes me into her.
She revitalizes my body like nothing else can.
Today I visited her.
I sat on her shores and drank her salty water.
I needed her.
Winter has taken it’s harsh tole on my body.
I feel thick, heavy, cold.
I let her breeze waft over and around my skin.
I swallowed her sunsets,
and caressed her skies.
I collected her treasures,
and wrote her poetry on my soul.
I carry the sea in me always.
Calm or stormy.
She is me.