Ethereal echoes
Emerald seas
Nacarat skies
Misty breeze

Mellifluous is her melody
Majestic every scene
Serenity of Serena
Allure of Ausrine

I tilt my head in ecstasy
My thoughts begin to cease
Sand beneath my hands
Cold, calming waters,
Languidly caress my feet

And like a child running around
And like a child who knows no bound
At the end, is enervated
I lay utterly still,
In her embrace,
Exhausted,
Yet satiated

Satiated by her healing warmth
Satiated by her meliorating touch
Satiated so much,
I wonder,
If my heart could hold so much of love.

it starts with you
sitting underneath the sun at dusk
the only noise you can focus on
is your languid breathing
while the scent of the hot wind
curls into your nostrils
in wicked streams

your slow and steady breaths
gives the beat for the rest of nature to imitate
her winds join in
offering a sweet and watery whisper
blending her breaths and your breaths in an airy duet
laying down the foundation for
the soft pitter-patter
of her plants and animals

her mischievous wind
knocks against the willow's branches
swinging her leaves.
their hollow ringing
is rhythmic and relentless

and then you hear it
the orchestral arrangement
that mother nature
has arranged for you
you become the conductor
of your movement
with your deliberate, languid winds

and when you take a pause in your rhythmic breaths
to savor the sweet scent of summer
as if it could be stamped on your mind
the kestrel's song plunges
into the orchestra
the shrill, sharp notes form a soloist in a flurry of feathers and beaks
completing the orchestra

as the moon rises, opening her pale eyes
as she sways to the rhythm of Earth's song

Who said love would be easy?
Who said life would be a smooth ride?
Who said you'd never have to worry?
Who said it would never be painful inside?
Look at that wretched state of you
The flaws you don't seem to accept
The pain you've kept hidden under the blankets
The mistakes you never seem to forget
You think it'll be better when the sun rises tomorrow?
You think you'll eventually laugh it all off someday?
You think you'll never have to get out of your self-made misery?
You think, "maybe not today"?
We're all just trying to get by
And there you go, torturing yourself with cruelty
You wouldn't even want to impose upon your worst enemy

And yet

You blind yourself with blatant stupidity
Of all "I don't deserve"s and "I'll never be happy"s
Of saying "life has no meaning" without realizing
You could've just made meaning all along
All of that have kept you from seeing
How loved you were
How absolutely treasured you are
By those who stayed
And those you could make meaning with,
If you just wanted to

Still

You count the ones who left
The ones who caused you so much pain
The voices that haunt the deep recesses of your brain
Like they're the ones that matter the most

Aren't you a ******* laughable creature? You.

Someone who has so much love wasted inside her,
Thrown into a compost pit of potential joy she never realized
Because she was too caught up in writing the saddest story humanity has ever written.

Boo-hoo. The end. Sad ever after.

Welcome to life, honey
It's never going to be easy
It's never going to be a smooth ride
And it's one you only have a chance of taking once
So at the very least,
pick yourself once more,
and cherish the journey.

Tell me five things you can see.

I can see the glimmering flame of a scented candle. It's spiced gingerbread, or pumpkin spice sugar cookies, or something. The flame dances above the wick, swirling hypnotically in my vision.

I can see my cat, curled up and sleeping soundly beside me. His little chest is rising and falling slowly, and his ears flick every now and then. His paws are embedded into the fabric of my dressing gown.

I can see my lamp, shining a warm yellow light across the room. The body is a dull chestnut brown, but the shade is silvery and glinting with spilled glitter from when I was young and played with fairy dust.

I can see my ring, golden and inscribed with some Hobbit language on both the inside and the outside. I wear it everywhere. It's a bit wet. I just washed my hands.

I see the moth sitting in the corner of the room. It's waiting for me to turn the big lamp on, I think. It's very small, with its wings all tucked in into a little rectangle. I haven't named it.

Tell me four things you can feel.

I can feel the soft cotton fabric of my duvet, running slightly coarse under my fingers as I rub it absently. It's rippling slightly from my fan.

I can feel the air from my fan gently lifting my hair off my pillow, blowing cool winds over my hot neck and chilling my exposed hands.

I can feel my wall and the paint chips flaking off it down the side of my bed. I can feel a small hole in the wall, creaking slightly when I push it.

I can feel my glasses resting on my nose, slightly slipping each second. There's a wisp of hair stuck in the hinge, and I gently pull it out.

Tell me three things you can hear.

I can hear the quiet buzzing of my laptop, humming monotone beside me, its heat slightly warming my ankles.

I can hear my fan whirring, singing out its little tune as it rotates around the room, occasionally clicking as it knocks against a bottle of body spray or cologne.

I can hear my cat purring softly as he sleeps. He sneezes every once in a while, and he burrows into his paws with a small squeak as I watch.

Tell me two things you can smell.

I can smell my candle burning away, a Christmassy scent that reminds me of watching old Netflix shows with a mug of mulled wine or gingerbread latte.

I can smell my cologne, a Diesel scent that's intoxicating. It's calming, and reminds me of sitting around a picnic table with my friends, rolling dice and leaning on each other too close.

Tell me one thing you can taste.

I can ******* toothpaste, gritty and sweet mint flavoured. If I lick my lips, I can still taste a bit of the ice cream I was eating - chocolate caramel.

Please relax, and go to sleep. You're too tired. I love you. Goodnight. I'll talk to you tomorrow.

Blue like the summer sky
His eyes
Calm like the sound of the ocean
The only notion worth making
Calming my soul to the core
At ease
Fingers combing through my hair
Hearing him whisper
"I'm yours"

They say endings are scary
Again, what do they know?
Maybe they’re just guessing
Perhaps, going with the flow

Endings could be peaceful
Of endings I’m not scared
They are regretful that’s all
But my whole life I’ve dared

Endings could be happy
Of endings I’m not scared
They are just very guilty
Of things they hadn’t shared

Endings could be calming
Of endings I’m not scared
They’re just anxious because
They’ll witness all that they feared

Endings could be nice
It’s probably not, I lied
I’m not just scared of endings
Truth is, I’m terrified.

I raise the pick-axe high up above my head.
I bring it back down with all my might.
I hear an audible thud at it pierces into the ground.

I change my grip.

The soil turns over as I pry it out of the ground.
I smile to myself in satisfaction at the sight of the churning soil.
It is a calm, soothing sight, worth the magnitude of the effort required to produce it.

I change grips as I ready myself and raise the pick-axe high up above my head once more.

I am the artist,
the Earth my canvas.
The pick-axe is my brush,
the chaos my muse.

Seeds will be sown
and vegetation will be grown.
Spoils will be shared
and cheer will be spread.

But for all the good that is done,
I am the one having all the fun,
for this sight is for me,
this art is my own.

Close your eyes, take in a deep breath of the salty air.
Now open them.

With fresh eyes, looking out you see the deep navy blue water and numerous waves in the distant water.
Crash, crash, crashing into each other.
Pristine white cross-hatching sea foam patterns scatter and reform.

You have been walking towards the water's edge and haven't even noticed. The soft cream colored sand starts to darken and harden as you approach the water.

The wind is loud enough to drown out nearby conversations and passing cars. You are in your own world. Nothing from the tangible world can touch you. The cool wind constantly battles the sun's heat on your face and hands, causing your skin to tingle.

You reach your arms out and close your eyes, lost in the moment.

Breathing in the salty fresh air you let go of your troubles, if only for the moment.

The thing that calms me the most about
                  The virus
Is to see how many people run around lost
                    And scared and stressed
Never sure if or when they could die or get it
  

With anxiety I'm constantly worried
        And stressed
But to watch as the rest of the world
             Break down
There is were I find my calm