The impossibility of silence. Always a surprise.
Wind howling in my ears, with cold Atlantic waves slamming my bare feet.
Drop below the surface of wind and wave into the void of Origin.
Wet sand, wet backside.
The quiet within is more appreciated than the quiet street.
And best is when the two meet. Inhale, exhale, like the wave rushing the shore,
it’s breadth enchanting.
There in the endless tides, quiet
crashes over the edges of me, again