When you walk down the pier all you can see is a short path and an end where the pier widens and there are two benches facing opposite directions. It is easy for you to think, I'm almost to the end" upon entering the pathway. But after four paces you realize that your eyesight does not account for the pier's length. It almost seems as if you're not moving because the end never seems to get closer. But after you turn to hopelessness your journey will abruptly take you to the end. This is where I'll be siting. Shivering and rhyming to myself.
The sun sets a little redder here and the birds fly a little smother. They whisper cocooning thoughts about the universe and the vastness of truth. I sit on a bench usually occupied by lovers. I had gone there with a person I had loved once but it is more permanent, more beautiful, and more embracing when I'm alone. It is very cold, and in that way many times forbidden by my survival instincts. I always forget to bring my coat because it is a place an instant brings me to, not planning.
The view is of undisturbed water surrounded by reeds and graceful long necked birds. The bloodthirsty sunset sets the peace of the bog on fire. My life instead of changing in terms of place to place changes from moment to moment, rewriting the world with every new sight.
My battle with my need for warmth is won by my need of peace and self-discovery. I choose to take the bodily reactions the cold gives me not as 'cold' and a thing my body rejects but as a massage the world is giving to me. I appreciate the pulsating sensations. This attempt to fool my body will soon be thwarted by my impending need for heat. I appreciate the swamp
with the knowledge that it will outlast me, both in life and in this night. I say farewell turning to my impossibly long pier which takes only an instant when I am returning to the museum. My thoughts have quietedby now, and the sun runs to china. I return to my car. It's alike to a boulder among these natural treasures.
I drive away to warmth and blaring sounds. I leave you to my sanctuary. I hope you brought a jacket, to plow up the secrets of the soul.
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