picture source: https://za.pinterest.com/pin/375909900133707843/
There are days I need the solitude of an empty home, devoid of people, sound and demands, when I only need the wind flowing in from over the ocean to brush its cool fingers across my skin.
There are days you cannot hear me sing over the thunderous rock music of the 60’s, as the drumsticks in my hands pound out their rhythm beating in my veins.
There are days I must submit, a total surrender to my hedonistic inclinations, when you can play with my desires as freely as the wind draws on the canvas of my limbs.
There are days I must immerse myself in the select company of those with comparable thoughts, similar energy and insight, get lost in conversation, coffee and laughter in the too-rarely felt timeless state of well-being.
Then there are days when the all-familiar shadows draw near, drowning hope and redemption, a drenching mist leaving nothing I see or feel untouched,
and there are days I need to be the silent observer at the edge of your consciousness, reading your words, inflections, your movements, strength and need.
Some days I’m at peace in this world I know I can change, some days the wounds are too deep and my life drains away.