As I opened the curtains this morning to let the sunshine into my room
and opened the window to feel the fresh and slightly crisp morning air,
I had a revelation.
.
As I drank in the beauty of this morning I felt…
.
Freedom.
Freedom in the beauty around me,
freedom in the possibility of standing here, arms resting at the window sill all morning, and even all day.
Freedom in the knowledge of that another week of work is done, and all weekend I am free to escape away from my work, not just in dreams and imaginations, but for real.
I am free, if just for seventy-two hours!
.
I recognize the beauty of the silver pearls of dew sparkling from fences and grass straws,
The beauty in the sheep’s quiet chewing of grass,
The beauty in the sun kissing my forehead with it’s first golden morning rays.
.
I feel the wind’s caressing my cheeks,
I open my eyes and I see the grey-blue far away hills like hidden in mist.
I hear dogs barking, and cows low in the fields across the road.
I hear birds singing, exactly the same song that they sing at home.
.
And I close my eyes again,
and with the sunshine on my face and the singing of the birds in my ears, I am home.
For a few splendid, glorious minutes,
I am home.
.
And as I open my eyes and leave home, the beauty has increased.
As have the freedom.
.
You see, there is freedom in beauty,
not in posessing it, but simply in recognizing it.
.
Beauty is eye of the beholder,
and may it stay there, only defineable in it’s definition and no other place.
.
My world is beautiful and in it’s beauty I am free.
and opened the window to feel the fresh and slightly crisp morning air,
I had a revelation.
.
As I drank in the beauty of this morning I felt…
.
Freedom.
Freedom in the beauty around me,
freedom in the possibility of standing here, arms resting at the window sill all morning, and even all day.
Freedom in the knowledge of that another week of work is done, and all weekend I am free to escape away from my work, not just in dreams and imaginations, but for real.
I am free, if just for seventy-two hours!
.
I recognize the beauty of the silver pearls of dew sparkling from fences and grass straws,
The beauty in the sheep’s quiet chewing of grass,
The beauty in the sun kissing my forehead with it’s first golden morning rays.
.
I feel the wind’s caressing my cheeks,
I open my eyes and I see the grey-blue far away hills like hidden in mist.
I hear dogs barking, and cows low in the fields across the road.
I hear birds singing, exactly the same song that they sing at home.
.
And I close my eyes again,
and with the sunshine on my face and the singing of the birds in my ears, I am home.
For a few splendid, glorious minutes,
I am home.
.
And as I open my eyes and leave home, the beauty has increased.
As have the freedom.
.
You see, there is freedom in beauty,
not in posessing it, but simply in recognizing it.
.
Beauty is eye of the beholder,
and may it stay there, only defineable in it’s definition and no other place.
.
My world is beautiful and in it’s beauty I am free.
–My King and Creator, could I ever dream of more?
3 kommentarer:
:o)
No for tida regjerer vinden på Goa.
I know exactly what you mean, even though I can't possibly express it in such a lovely way =D There is indeed something special about standing by the window, knowing that you're free to stand there all day (or all night).
And 25 days to go, and you'll be free to come home to me and celebrate christmas!
I miss you so!
(By the way, I really liked the phrase about beauty in "the sheep’s quiet chewing of grass")
lol,so nice
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