movement not action

There is quaking and violent silence more expressive than a noonday in Manhattan. It is strange in is stillness that you can only employ words which seem to express violence and chaos to describe the slow moment. I have spent many months at sea and would stare out into the morning fluorecents trying to listen and it seemed unbelievable that such a sight wouldn't give up a sound. Or the sun demonstrating it's effect behind the veil cloud. You would stay if you could, you would close your mouth as to not offend and sober suddenly because of the natural collision of the ocean with light. The Sierra mountain crests are similar in their ability to disturb you with humility and conscience. The Canyon, the Shenandoah Valley, driving an old Ford from the north down Hwy 1.

There are easy reasons why real estate is expensive in these places. The yacht, the cruz, are rewards for the ambitious. Others run away to give themselves to such things. To tents in mountains or to navies. It would be worth it all if we could stand before that moment and remain that quiet and humble man needing only the light on his face and the knowledge of peace experienced. It would be worth it to sell it all or give it all if it would last. It would be worth it if it wasn't already given freely in a place we were not looking.