Member-only story
I thought of you as a nation.
Savage seas,
waves rolling from a raging storm.
You were warm and moist,
as temperate as the climate.
The scent of wet moss.
As dank and foreboding
as the rummages of the bleak landscape.
You inspired, to tire.
Forever you went.
Overwhelming the senses.
To be.
To see.
You were the blanket
hiding to reveal.
The mist, a shroud
covering the landscape of the mind.
No space,
A vale to conceal.
No ground or sky to fall from.
Your taste:
The peat - the goodness of the earth
brought forth from decay,
To be reborn.
Comes forth life, the fire that burns so bright and warm.
The taste savoured from your warm moist lips reminded me of the dark, mellow taste of Guinness.
Your skin is as smooth as the moss
covering the wet slippery rocks.
The words from your mouth last night
flowed and trickled like the sounds of distant, gently flowing streams.
I have never been to or seen this land, but I may have experienced a nation in you.
My blue, like the sky, you are immense and intense.
Immersed in the feeling of you.
As beautiful as nature, you are.
I love the torment and beauty.
The sublime you are thus.
