I hear the wind.
Chimes ringing in the distance. The running of dogs playing and catching balls. Tree leaves crumbling, softly hitting the ground. Not a noise made by the leaf and the grass. The wind talks to me. It tells me, "You're alive, living and breathing me in.". I agree with it and let my mind follow it up, up to the heavens where peace has found me. Up and up, more wind. The sound is soothing. Bird's wings soar and I hear the wind against their beautiful feathers. I hear soft sounds of the gates following the wind and locking into place. Everything sounds so clean, so peaceful. Like the real dangers of the world disappear at the Earth's calming sounds.
I see the trees.
Left, right. Back and forth. They move with the wind. The greenness of the leaves tells me many stories of the peaceful past years. One tells a story of grace; "a man and a woman meet for the first time. You could just see the love in their eyes. He asks her for her hand and permission to dance. She accepts without knowing this stranger's name. They dance the night away only seeing each other." Others tell stories of older ladies feeding small, young birds feeling as though she just reached out and touched a pieces of salvation. The branches of the trees tell me about experiences and their own life stories. I see the clouds. They also tell me stories about the world outside my sanctuary. Oh, how destructive and disastrously corrupt it can be. No, it's not the world, it's the people. I see two lawn gnomes and I wonder what people would be like if the world was unselfish and happy.
I taste the barbeque of a neighbor.
I taste the hamburgers and hot dogs on the open flames. The charcoal and the senses are all so good. I taste the icy cola. I sip it slowly and enjoy and savor ever last drop.
I smell the trees.
So sour and sweet, great and fresh. I smell the rain. In the clouds, water is collected drop by drop, from the oceans, lakes, and rivers. I smell it through the clouds, like I am breathing the clouds. I smell the soft clean air and with every breath I am taken away from my own body. So delightful, so relaxing.
I feel the cold air brushing numb skin. The softness of every blow is clean and gentle. An itch grows in my hand but I do not scratch it. It is created by this blissful air. The air runs through the pours in skin. I feel the sun set as my eyes slowly set as well. I feel the warm rush in my blood trying to fight the airs cold breeze. I feel my love for this sanctuary is slowly growing stronger with every breeze, every sound, every smell, and every taste this world has to offer. I feel the fear of leaving if I ever leave and cannot come back. I have an assortment of feelings, emotions. Some I feel a lot, an overwhelming amount. Some I wanted, needed, begged for, and, now, I have.
Many people spend their lives searching for the sanctuary. The beauty of it, the height of the wind. Many people die without really feeling the Earth for itself. The air, the trees, the sounds. I have been asked what my sanctuary is:
It is a world of life worth living for. My sanctuary is my ecstasy.
