The rain thunders downwards, straight and forceful hitting the ground like machine gun fire. The leaden grey sky reflected in the heaving tumultuous waves of the ocean creating an almost monochrome vista. This ruinous chapel affording my dank body some slight shelter from the elements. Situated in an open field on a rocky promontory forming a cape, surrounded by the relentlessly roaring sea, blending perfectly with its environs. The drystone walls, mortared rubble and rounded boulders of which it is constructed taken from the very earth on which it was constructed.
Huddled alone and drenched against the granite corbelled walls, my mortal self feels strangely alone. It’s as if I was the only living being in this seemingly austere yet enigmatic world. The only ever witness to the rugged beauty of the landscape.
Yet a paradoxical sense avails also.
A sense of oneness with the Earth, of being a unified part of all that was, is and will ever be. I am but a microcosm reflected in the greater whole.
In this rugged stone panorama I perceive my bones.
In the moss and meadow see my flesh.
In the sea and the rivulets of rain I behold my blood.
A numinous peace settles around my war torn heart.
For now I know ( as I have always known, deep inside), that I and all that is, are eternal.