Traveling through these hollows, the waves crashing, the rocks echoing each break, I submerge myself in it's seeming disasterous calling. Exploring each crevice, creature, and past mark, I wonder how such things can come to be; yet come to be known only by accidental discovery by one wallowing in their own sorrow and lostness. One who comes to hide, to escape everything in their life that haunts them; someone like myself. I wandered helplessly down the shores, feeling the rain falling on me, soaking my flesh through my clothes, feeling the hot tears streaming down my face, but barely noticing, for the emotion that had overwhelmed me once again. I spied that one dark place in the rocks, and it looked like home to me. Home to what I was feeling, and a place to hide.
Sliding into the small space, I noticed signs of others previous visits, initials, hearts pierced with arrows proclaiming so called love and the like, etched into the rock for eternity. The ancient walls whispered to me, the many things that probably occured in this mystical, although very real place. Closing my eyes I could nearly feel all of the past emotions that must have flowed through here, temporarily allowing them to cloud my own, relishing in them. Shivering, I leaned back against the deeper portion of my escape. Reaching out, running my fingers softly over the etchings, I realize that no matter the outcome of these proclamations, no matter what may have ensued as a result of whatever life may have brought them; what they felt durring the time it took them to proclaim such things, in such a time consuming manner, must have been something that would have enlightened those very lives forever.
Anyone can speak words of so called meaning. Not anyone is willing to put forth the effort to express those feelings in a way that will last for all of their own existence. Special people these are...were...
Forgetting why I came to be here, I slip slowly back into the moon lit air, feeling emotionaly revived. I may not use stone to display my emotions, or to share realizations and proclamations, and I rarely speak them out loud, but in my writing, I hope to apply my own engravings on someone's soul, just as impressionable as those small, hardly artistic, but everlasting scratches have applied on my own soul.
~Jess~
