chaos

I hear the sea in the wind this morning, the applause of waves in the leaves and the depth in the monotone sky. Off to the south there is a lightening of sorts, where the storm gray gives way to platinum, polished by the sun wherever it is. It is like the beach, where the sand is dark and soft near the water, but as it dries, the darkness disappears. Far up on the shore the wind can pick it up grain by grain and toss each one to chaos, or, I suppose, order.

The words are going there for me, some in chaos, some tamped down on the hard packed edges of my mind. The best part about those is that it is easy to walk on the sea soaked shoreline. The better exercise comes from the part of the beach where the loose grains are tossed in the wind though, where I have to close my eyes to the chaos to avoid tremendous pain, and where, when I can successfully make the trek, the muscles in my thighs scream of the burn that comes from broken down tissue. I like that pain. It means that tomorrow, I will be stronger. It means the words were worth fighting for.

I glance back to the sky to see if the sun is going to make its appearance, cursing the full moon a bit for the fatigue I am flooding with a strong hazelnut brew, and see that instead the sun has gone back to sleep, and the sky softened like the eyes of a lover beckoning me back to bed as well. Tempting, oh so tempting.