Without These

The undisturbed sound of calling birds

Echoing all around, rebounding off every surface,

forever calling with no response,

and no joy.

The distant waves,

appealingly cataclysmic,

with the potential to be world ending,

be we jaunt alongside them.

The blustering winds,

whisking in the leaves,

buzzing to itself,

and yet, everything is still.

Faint patters of footsteps,

An exploring hiker,

Disturbing the peace,

And taking nature for granted.

Without these,

the world would be deafeningly silent,

only my pen on the paper,

and my shallow heartbeat,

Completely lost in time.

There would be no distractions,

The calmest place on earth,

The only place I can find tranquility.