Beach Baby


My view from the Balcony

My view from the Balcony

The Gulf of Mexico calls….no the sands aren’t sugary white.  No the place I stay isn’t tourist ridden.  But there is calm.  There is rest.  There are sand dollars.  There is time to think.  And there is my love.

See you in a week!

 

On the Beach at Night, Alone. by Walt Whitman
ON the beach at night alone,
As the old mother sways her to and fro, singing her husky song,
As I watch the bright stars shining—I think a thought of the clef of the
universes,
and of the future.
A VAST SIMILITUDE interlocks all,
All spheres, grown, ungrown, small, large, suns, moons, planets, comets,
asteroids,
All the substances of the same, and all that is spiritual upon the same,
All distances of place, however wide,
All distances of time—all inanimate forms,
All Souls—all living bodies, though they be ever so different,
or in different worlds,
All gaseous, watery, vegetable, mineral processes—the fishes, the brutes,
All men and women—me also;
All nations, colors, barbarisms, civilizations, languages;
All identities that have existed, or may exist, on this globe, or any globe;
All lives and deaths—all of the past, present, future;
This vast similitude spans them, and always has spann’d, and shall forever
span them,
and compactly hold them, and enclose them.

 

 

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