Where Tomorrow Hides (a poem from where I sit)

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The muse never tires. Always present, she flows like the sea outside my window. Enduring. Always present. Always changing.

This morning, Beaumont the Sheepadoodle and I sat in silent communion with the waves gliding across the ocean surface. Mesmerized, I heeded the muse’s urgings and let time slip away as morning crept across the sky and I found myself effortlessly breathing into the pure joy of being present, wholly embodied in the now.

It is fleeting, this being embodied in the now. Busyness. Things to do. To read. To see. Places to get to. People to connect with. Rooms to organize. And still boxes to unpack. Too many. I’m tempted to tell myself to leave them unpacked and if in six months I haven’t missed anything, to let whatever is in them be released without examining the contents of each unopened box.

We shall see…

For this moment, right now, I sit in silent communion with Beau, sipping my latte, listening to Hildegard von Bingen’s ecclesiastical sounds fill the morning air. And I breathe.

Where Tomorrow Hides
by Louise Gallagher

Light stalks the darkness, 
slithering across cloud laden sky
slipping effortlessly below the far horizon 
where tomorrow hides, 
safe beyond my sight.

Here and now, mesmerized,
I sit watching undulating waves 
wash up from a gunmetal sea,
whispering stories of far away places
hidden beyond the distant edge of the world.

Tomorrow stretches, 
pregnant with cloudy mystery,
waiting beyond this realm
where I sit
watching waves wash ashore.

Mesmerized
time slips away
and I become one with the world around me.

7 thoughts on “Where Tomorrow Hides (a poem from where I sit)”

  1. Tide

    No beach at Lunan Bay.
    Earth spins under the salt waters
    as tide throws its tongues
    higher than ever before.
    We sit and marvel at the edge:
    sea rising, springing, leaping
    at our feet. Warming, warning
    it’s time it’s time it’s time.
    Ever closer to our edges,
    our villages of dreams,
    our cities of indifference.

    Gaia speaks clear- do we hear?
    Or close our ears, pretend to care,
    speak endless words
    of hypocrisy?

    Tide rising, slowing, breaking.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply ↓

      • Thank you, Louise. I love your blog. Having reached what I call the winter of my life I found it is a creative time, a time for letting go of that which is no longer needed, a time of preparationfor the new Spring

        Liked by 1 person

      • Thank you! I too am in the ‘winter of my life’ and though I have always been a creative, I find this time particularly broad and open — I find the letting go, both figuratively and physically, so freeing! Much gratitude for your presence here — do you have a blog? I’d love to read more of your writing.

        Like

      • Now there’s a thought. I’m new to this and haven’t considered blogging. Creative writing gives me a way of airing parts of myself that were always there, but unexpressed and it would be good to share my excitement.

        Like

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