How interesting
that within a single sentence, lies
the power to transport one’s mind to
anywhere.
One could be taken to a little cottage;
where the table is covered in a red and white
tablecloth, the kettle is on
the cream window frame frames a mountain,
a friend
the white ceiling fan fans the air around
the little room
music plays softly.
Or, one could be taken to some grass
where stars shine high above
There are no clouds
No song fits this place, this space where
thoughts roam
I want to be taken to
the place where in a day, or two,
there will, for me, be nothing
but memory
A memory where clouds are scarce
where picturesque views are never ending
a cliche, perhaps, is now the
Great Barrier Reef
but to appear unique and fresh
I will attempt to provide only words
that make up imagery, only feelings
that are forced to be felt
by the ever moving tide, by the ever moving,
ever changing, mind, that is myself
And so, we begin, the meditation that is
Heron Island that I have only just begun to understand.
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