The air is stale and cold. The night encompasses everything in its cloak of cover. The only audible noises to be heard are the soft distant whooshes that accompany the far away waves as they crash upon the shoreline. The cascading walls of water fall at interspersed intervals of no definite pattern, randomly intruding upon the silence of the black night with their faint whispers. The muted wind silently howls against the bulwarks of the majestic waters that come from destinations remote and unknown. Amidst this angry tranquil night, the lazy stars offer glimpses of their splendor by deigning to shine some of their brilliant light upon the ocean’s backyard, where the angry sea has battered the sloth-like rocks into utter submission, now infinitely present as the unimaginable number of sand particles that stretch infinitely far.

And I, against these massive forces of nature, nestle my way into a tiny portion of the unadulterated beach. Firmly ensconcing myself into the soft fine grains of sand, I carve out a piece of rest in the wrestling madness that surrounds me. Sitting calmly and contently, my eyes adjust to the great absence of light as swallowed by the hungry mistress of the night. Thanks mainly in part to the generous scrooges of the firmaments and their secluded dazzling brilliance, I can just barely make out the outlines of the incoming waves, seeing them in a ready formation, the next and subsequent groups ready to take over where the previous one was interrupted in its mundane task. This is my sanctuary.

But not for long. Even more deafening than that silence of the quiet sly night barrels the loud engines of a giant 747 against the backdrop of the night. Its illuminating light inundates me in an overwhelming shower of blinding radiance that forces me to hiss at the unwelcomed intrusion. It screeches against the wind, daring nature to try and best it in competition. As it soars into the enveloping night, this apparition of a behemoth slowly loosens its grip on me, meticulously withdrawing both its light and roar from my presence, recalling it back to whence it came. And so, what’s mine becomes mine once again.

Yet, that thought process holds not entirely true. With meek eyes, I tilt my head up and scour the unforgiving abyss that is the night sky for any glimpse of the tailwind of the monster that so blatantly rattled my peace and quiet. In time enough, my eyes become bolder, more accustomed to the harsh reality of the world above, slowly able to discern between the selfish heavenly bodies and the disappearing flying creations. I start to see that the event that just unfurled itself was not one of a kind, but rather one is a series of many others. These faint twinkling lights can be seen off to the left, right, and straight ahead. I count not one, two, three, but mayhaps six or seven pairs of fading glimmers. The corresponding directional engagements of said shimmers are to the South, West, or North, with all intermediate degrees covered within.

Each drifting object in the night sky harbors in its precious cargo a little piece of home. A little thing I know that will travel far and away and bring new life to places unknown. With them, my eyes seek to clasp on, to go with them to their destinations and embrace a place so far away. Even as it seems that I’m being torn in six or seven different pieces, I know that only then will I be able to find my rest. It’s the only thing I know, if only you would leave me alone.

10.03.09. 2.16 – 2.47am