For a while now, I have been acutely aware of a "building". A "steeping", a gradual increase in pressure that has begun to make it hard to think clearly. Hard to see direction or feel hope ... I have felt like a flailing swimmer being caught in surf too strong for my ability. Every time I come up for air, a wave comes crashing down on top of me. Churning sand, water, seaweed current. My lungs burn, my limbs grow heavy and my vision begins to dim. Every gasp of air includes large amounts of seawater ... All I can do is pray that the waves will soon calm or that I will have an infusion of supernatural strength that will help me swim to shore ... In the midst of all this spluttering and desperation, a welcomed break presents itself and I find myself on the shore, enjoying the playful breeze as it musses my hair and toys mischievously with the hem of my dress. The sun is dipping below the horizon, delicately bathing the heavens in soft pastels and reflecting light off shimmering waves. This is my favourite of places to be when I need to regroup and refresh. Here, where the ocean's relentless song sings me to sleep at night and calls me from my rest in the mornings. Where Sunsets look like God's masterpiece and time takes a slower measure. It's where I return again and again ...
Moonlight
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