It is a voice that does not stay in place. It sighs, and sometimes roars. The sound is high over head, and then in my face, moisture hitting my skin. The voice scolds me for leaving, and starts in on its rhythmic tirade:
Slap you senseless. Slap you senseless. Hush. Hush.
I try to explain it is not my intention to keep away forever, but the voice does not listen. How can it? Its purpose is to mark the passage of time by screaming out the number of each beat of my heart. The voice, deep, sonorous, light as mist, is good at mimicking the wonder and beauty of life. But with a rolling crash and a well-placed wave, the voice knocks me back, drags me down, and makes me swallow my words.
Semi-Daily Scribbles 
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