“Home,” they said, “is where the heart is.” “Home,” I replied, “is wherever I will be.”

You used to spend your days, trying to soothe the pleats and creases of the sea. Calming the waves, resisting the currents, creating a perfect surface — streamlined, serene …

To me, you are rolling mountains, warm and kind coloured skies, falling into rosy sunsets. You are gentle breezes, greeting me with kisses. You are deep seaside breaths, easy joy, and laughter rolling, from the depths of my chest.

They say there is a season for everything, under the yellow sun and silver moon. In ebb and flow, I watch these changing things, come and go …

Awake this life of mine, to explore earth untouched, to set foot on ground yet walked, to scale the heights of that yet to be sought …

There’s a road I see, and it runs, unravelling thread, for miles along the mountainside, as far as the eye can see …

I’m not usually an early riser, but this morning, I woke early to watch the milky morning light and the dawn clouds forming from my bedroom window …

When my mother would ask me what I wanted to be when I was grown, every time, hope swelling, I would gaze up and tell her, “I want to be a bird.”

I watched the moon, as she stood in solidarity with the sun, in the in between hours of day and dusk. I wondered if she ever feels out of place – away from her starry skies, and nights of deep infinite blue …

Will you take my broken pieces, gather the fragments of me, and turn them into gold? For what I count as mess, you weave into wonder, and you make me something more.

In the universe of things, as small as you may feel, your life here is a vision hoped for – a beautiful answer, a promise revealed.

I move with the water and dance in the waves. I lift my hands to the clouds and constellations, feel the world within me, and let my grief fly away …

You are light, when the earth is bright and booming. You are light, when no one else is looking. You are light, beneath silver skies and pouring rain, under the mango sun and morning haze.