In The Moors
In The Moors
It's a dark, dark night.
An eerie stillness in the air.
Where's the wind?
Has it blown off somewhere?
Lost its way
In its wild, meandering way?
Or is this a forgotten place
Where only pensive souls
Reach when astray.
The moors call me
As I wander through the night.
Inevitably I find myself heading there.
Sitting on the side I contemplate its beauty that dark night.
It's chilly, and I wrap my scarf around.
Complete peace.
Hush! My heartbeats, don't beat so loud!
The silence is pure,
A pristine night.
Don't vilify it.
I sat there for hours,
Soaking in the quiet.
A deep peace prevailed.
The moors merged into the sky in a seamless veil,
Hiding all vice and vicissitudes of life,
The cacophony of constant stress,
Ceaseless efforts at achieving equilibrium.
But here in this vast emptiness,
Where even light treads a wary step,
There's calm,
And solitude
And a serenity caressing the soul gently.
Where better to retreat into the mind?
That vast, empty space
Which when purged will be ready
To open its arms to the wisdom
Of being.
When silence will speak its special words
And convey the meaning
Lost in the medley of sounds.
When the quietness will whisper
And the signs of serendipity appear.
The minutes ticked by
In deep bliss.
A cloud moved away.
In the distance, a drake flew by
In respectful silence.