A Carribean Morning

The north side is cool generally and in comparison to the rest of the island. I enjoy the white noise of night with its crickets, coki's, parrots and other darkness dwellers. While the dark sky looms overhead bright stars in the curtain of night cast their light over the Atlantic as though smearing themselves like paint to the canvass of life, yet a glimmering effect that would surpass divinity and bring even the most hardened to their knees. As the light of dawn takes hold and moving slowly though the hourglass has slowed just for this moment, only the inspiring awe of such beauty can be witnessed with the little dobs of islands scattered throughout the landscape. Some with names, some without but all of them must be called something, this is the one of the flaws in humans, that we must label everything and give it a name. Without one it would not exist at all, for without a name could never be within our reach, however, and how ironic that these names would be created by the ones who would pass them by, usually unconscious of their presence and the majestic beauty they posses.
Who is to say that they did not have a name of their own and we stole it from them, cast it aside and implied something different with a name of our own?



I am alone.




Although I feel as much a part of this panoramic reality, I am alone. There is no fear of the withdrawn introversion because we are all alone when we creep back into our own minds, only for a little while just to take in what is surely ours, public, but also private in how we perceive the reality of the dawn in the Caribbean. Everyone is alone but through the comforts of those closest to us do we find the surety that we are in company, however, unless one's mind can be read then that mind would be alone. Yes, I am alone.




All while the one island, directly north always seems inviting as though my life would be drawn to it, holding the secrets to good company for me. I often have to blink to attest that I am not in a dream and this is not an illusion. THIS IS REALITY. Throughout the days we would cling to our own systems of monotony. Truly slaves to our own neurotic selves as we do the same things over and over again and with the same result day by day, with a smile remember the definition of insanity. Maybe I am insane and quite possibly we all are. But can we be forgiven for our character flaws, our insane acts within our daily grind that continues, days to months to years to lives and then possibly back to earth. To live is to die. Just like dawn. Doing the same things over again and again just like dawn.




just like dawn,



Dawn is the same every day although it changes in visual and textural quality and would never be the same, it is the same everyday. You can depend on dawn, you can put your trust in dawn and you can embrace its comfort and expression of night into daylight. As though it would be your most admirable confidante, it is sure and true that today it will be there for you and every day forward until you become a part of endless shores, possibly within the Caribbean.




The north with all its offerings and the way the sun would rise over the tops of the palms. Like an explosion of light and heat hitting my back, I feel the power of something definitely greater than myself but within all it's omnipotence it would also swell the ocean and swallow the land whole as those who inhabit it become victims to the wrath of nature, the ocean and the reality. Fear is not a lesson learned but innate and taken by the spoonful while we gag and resist in any way possible like a child to the nastiest of cold medicine, would we learn to exempt ourselves from the reality that the only thing we fear is within our own minds, as though fear really doesn't exist, without a physical form yet the emotion can overcome even the strongest minds and corrupt even the truest hearts. I am afraid of some things but nothing scares me more than myself. As sure as the dawn I can also be assured that I will get in my own way, I will open a wrong door, deny an opportunity or inhibit something good in some way or another. Is it not normal to fear failure? We are of flawed genetics and our flaws rescind the possibility for perfection, however, through honor and integrity I can commit to the standard of excellence regardless of how arduous the task might be at times I will not fall into the abyss of mediocrity, not if I can stop it from taking hold and through gentle kindness and genuine creativity will be spared the entertainingly blandness of mediocrity.




Oh how I wish I could be the trade winds for a day.




I would gently produce myself in the warm waters off the gulf and attach myself to the current within the sky passing through the leeward and windward island chains, without a skip in the steps of perfection would find myself able to diminish at the African coast, or maybe even become something else grabbing dust and hell bent on India, reckless and powerful or possibly amass the collection of moisture until the weight of my soul could do nothing but release like droplets of rain over a dry and arid land so needing of such an event. But, I enjoy being me, however, we all dream to be something else at times, maybe? Just for a day, to be the trade winds? To blow and feed the sea, cool the beings that would notice me, not only through the coolness on the cheeks but to see the purple and red flowers of paradise bend in the breeze of infinity forever. Maybe for a day? But how would I get home after traveling so wildly? Maybe on the backs of whales, through oceans and seas. Possibly, coming back would not be the coarse that nature would have for me. Possibly to fly as the trade winds would be the answers to my flaws and would leave my need for excellence a far second from the finding of perfection. Who would be so bold as to say the trade wind were not perfect? I don't think I could judge for I only strive for excellence and could never gauge that of something perfect because I don't know what perfection is, I have never been a part of it.




True love is perfection



The formation of clouds are not insistent upon what forms they may take but the ability instead to take on form at all. Science, what is science to clouds but moisture and temperature allowed to join as one and create, clouds truly are the power to create and I can see them. We are privy to creation, far more than we would feel. We see the creation of things every day but would omit them from our conscious to spite our subconscious, I think not. I will not succumb to this tragedy of denial that would keep me blind to the things we should be clinging to. I refuse to shut down and diminish my mind to lesser things. Only then would I truly feel as though I had, once again, shown just how imperfect I truly am.




It would be nice to be the trade winds for a day!