My Refuge

                           

It’s beautiful up here.

Sixth floor.  Facing the backside of a barren parking lot.  Behind Burjuman Centre.  Open air all season round.

This is the view of my humble balcony, my view from above – my refuge from the world. 

Every single night I begin to daydream and wander off into some strange world of thought.  I find myself suddenly standing in the midst of the wind herself, caught up in thought and watching a busy little world below.   Ironically enough, although it happens every night, it’s rather spontaneous.  I just find myself there.

I feel comfort.  I feel distant.  I feel warm and free.

As I lean on the dusty railing and let my weary head hang over the fragile world that lay beneath my feet, I gaze at all the busy people moving frantically like ants. 

Fascinating.  All of them with places to go, people to meet, trivial issues to worry about, conversations to carry…much like myself. 

Incredible.  You can almost see the way that there’s a little world surrounding each and every one of them.   

The young girl studying at her desk in her room.  The woman walking her dog.  The gentleman picking up his elegant date for dinner.  The man who drives while making an important phone call on his mobile….the young aspiring artist watching the world from his balcony.

It’s beautiful up here.  

I’m lost in thought.

Now and again the wind will pass by and start a conversation.  She carries so much, the wind.  Every night she has a different mood, while swaying and howling impulsively.  With her she brings the thoughts and whispers of other wanderers like myself.  We often talk for hours on end. 

Sometimes, she does all the talking.  I’d just listen.  Some nights, I’ll sway with her.  Close your eyes, you can do it to.  Just listen to her and then let loose.  Don’t think, just become fluid.  Wait to see where she might take you.

It’s beautiful up here.  I feel like I can soar.

The coals are almost hot enough.  I walk in briefly to get them from the stove.  As I step back out to put them on the sheesha head, they glow.  They glow and sizzle because they’re excited by the wind.  As I sit back, my attention drifts from the land below to the sea above.  The clouds above slowly sift and roll like the tide slowly creeping on the shore.  The moon smiles while the stars wink at me.  I take a deep breath as a smile stretches across my face.  Notice how the smoke is exhaled into the surrounding air in its own pattern… swirling, writhing, aching to break out before being caught by the wind. 

She weaves and spins once more before vanishing and moving on to meet other drifters.  To meet another land, another sea, other thoughts and other winds…much like I will.

Follow where the wind takes you.

 “The duty of art is to elevate us from the beast.”

-Anonymous

~ by Omar on February 9, 2008.