My Own

There is a land I possess – a world I alone own. A rugged island amidst roaring seas. An exquisite paradise whose pulchritude is cloaked in grey clouds, an Eden whose beauty lies in her ruthless harshness. I own it all, the solitary cliff, on whose crown stands my proud abode; a mighty fortress of ancient stone, it’s unyielding bulwarks, my shield against the unrelenting, cold wind that blows upon its buttresses. I own the craggy, barren moors that surround it. The island’s sharp fjords that rise above its half-frozen rivulets are mine. And I possess the ivory coasts fringing her hem, that are kissed and caressed each moment by the waves of the vast, infinite ocean that cleaves my world from that which lies beyond it.

For me, this world is an exceptional alliance of strangeness and familiarity. Here, every step I take leads me down paths that I have frequented and known intimately, but which startle me with their astonishing novelty. And there exist endless nacreous beaches on whose virgin sand I tread, while knowing in my heart that I have chanced upon their magnificent beauty before.