From my skylarks roost, high on the cliff top
The sound of the waves swills through my ears
And the wind sings in my hair.
Below me the sea frets and turns
Stretching itself in its sleep.
Further out, beyond reality
There is only a line so straight
That it may have been drawn by God.
Along this line there is no sound,
No movement, no activity,
Merely the still calm of a deep blue mystery.
This is why they come
To point their chairs at the sea and stare.
And allow their minds to drift out
Towards the unknowing and the unseen.
Towards a place that you can never reach,
Although the searching for it satisfies your heart and quietens your soul.