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I am really going to miss this place.
This island has been my home for almost a week,
but now it is time for me to leave,
now it is time for me to return to England
with renewed inspiration, and new questions and new truths,
that I now cherish and seek.

Walking on the beach for the last time this morning,
I felt so sad to say goodbye to the sea, the sand, the air,
and to the beautiful sunlight and perfect sky
that greeted me at every dawning.

I have made so many amazing, wonderful, and incredible memories
since I first arrived here, unpacked my case,
through my bag over my shoulder, and set-out to explore-
everyday the wonders of this beautiful island
have awoken me with peace and tranquility,
and has seen me fall asleep with memories
and recollections of the day before
that took me to sleep feeling more alive than ever,
feeling more inspired than ever,
feeling more hope than ever before,
and spellbound with awe.

Leaving Jersey, watching the ground disappear below my feet,
rising into the clouds, into the evening sun-
unable to move, completely stuck to my seat.
The feeling of take-off,
I can only describe as like feeling the wonder and the magic
that you feel when you are a child-
when the world seems infinite, incredible, indescribable, and wild.
Watching the island disappear behind me,
I feel so sad to leave it;
but knowing what effect it has had on me,
makes me feel like a newly-inspired, enlivened, and brand new poet.

Seeing the coast of Great Britain again,
seeing my country, the island of my birth from the air,
fills my heart like an intake of breath,
makes me feel light-headed, glad to be home, as if I hadn’t left.

Landing on home-soil, through the golden haze of dusk,
time feels as if it has frozen before me,
and I have to question which senses that I should trust.

Taking my first step back in England,
looking up at the blue, red, and golden clouded sky,
I attempt to describe the beauty that I am seeing in my mind,
but the words that I find fail me at every try.

Returning home, everything seems different
and yet the same- just like me.
I want to go back soon;
but for now, my dreams will be enough
to return me every night
to the place that has me under its spell:
the beautiful island of Jersey.

This morning, at daybreak,
as the tide came in and went out and came in again,
I wrote my name in the sand with a black stone,
in the place of a pen.
Writing my name so close to the beach’s end
I knew that it would not be long before the sea washed it away,
as if it had never been there-
but it is something that I have wanted to do for so long.

For every letter that I wrote
I could see that the tide was coming in faster with every passing second,
so I wrote every letter of every word as fast as I could-
it was like a race against time to write my name
there in the sun soaked sand, before it was washed away like a flood.

We all leave footprints, hand-prints,
names in the sands of time, as we travel through the world
from sunrise to sunset, from sunset to sunrise-
what we see of the world does not end with what we see with our eyes.

Most of what we do is temporary;
most of what happens to us surges and then settles, like ocean spray;
most of what we build within us is gone by the next day.
Some of the things that stand the test of time are invisible on first look,
and that is why they are untouched:
rock-faces, islands, channels, rivers-
when you look at them you can see natures signature in its sculpture,
and because of the perfection that you see,
you can tell that nature does not rush.

Our lives are sparks in a fire;
our interactions with each-other are like waves on a sea;
our fates are entwined together like holding hands;
our voices may be small in the chorus of the cosmos,
but I think that there is something wonderful and powerful
about something so simple as writing your name in the sand.

Barefoot, at dawn,
in the soft sun-bathed sand of the beach,
I left my footprints in the sand for others to follow-
hoping to learn, hoping to teach.

As I looked into and out to the beautiful, perfect, blue sea,
I was touched by inspiration, a blessing,
a shine of creativity, a muse of poetry.

I felt like I had received a message from someone,
and I felt this need to send one back-
and that is what I decided to do,
while standing looking out to the clear blue horizon,
as the white ocean waves crashed against my legs,
as I could feel the warm sun on my back.

So I took an empty bottle from my bag.
I took out a piece of paper with my name, my address,
a link that someone could use to contact me again later,
and an invitation for someone in the future to read my poetry,
and to reconnect with me.
I put the piece of paper in the bottle,
and then I sent my message and my bottle out into the blue,
and I watched them be carried out to sea.

As my message in a bottle was carried further and further out,
I watched it with hope in my heart
that someone would one day find it, read it, and understand it;
but I just know that they will, I know it beyond any doubt
that the message, the wish, the muse of me
would be seen, read, and felt, by another, and another, and another,
until we are all part of the same verse of poetry.

Who knows to where my message will go,
who knows how far it will travel,
who knows if my message will dance the waves fast or slow,
who knows whether my message will be read in France,
back in England, or wash up on the coast of Portugal.

I have no idea where the tides will take my voice,
but I have hope that whomever it finds
they will choose to follow the footsteps that I left on the beach,
on the sea, and on the sky,
and in the gift to be found by someone I have never met,
one day in my message in a bottle.

Yesterday, I walked to the top of a castle
and felt like a king as I looked out over the beautiful blue sea.
Today, I got out of bed, I got dressed,
I walked down the high-streets and roads
that I had never been down before,
and found myself walking down tunnels bored through solid-rock,
to squares of liberation and liberty.

Yesterday, I walked on the sea-floor of a harbour-
through tethered sailboats and fishing boats
that laid land-locked temporarily-
while the tide was out.
Today, I watched people start their day on this beautiful island:
commuting to work, going to school-
walking, running, talking, silent-
ready to begin their sun-blessed day,
seemingly without doubt.

Yesterday, I walked to the beach
and saw the effect of the ever-present Sun and Moon
on the Earth and on the ocean-
and as I took in the sea air into my lungs
I felt like a new man.
Today I watched life begin, continue, and change-
moving in every direction, and breaking the beat of a trance.

Yesterday, I felt the past touch me on the shoulder-
showing me and teaching me, yet again,
that what has passed does not mean that it now resides
in the realm of history.
Today I walked among the remnants of a great war-
one that changed the world forevermore-
and I feel more enlightened now than ever,
thanks to what I saw today,
and yesterdays journey of enlightenment-
which I am going to call from now on
my Gorey Story.

As the tide was going out in the morning,
I looked out to sea from where I was sitting
and I saw a white sailboat slowly making its way
silently in the distance,
sailing the horizon from right to left-
no one else looking out, or walking their dogs,
near the water seemed to notice it but me.
I wondered to myself who it was
that was sailing this beautiful boat
at this beautiful hour of golden washed ocean waves.
I wave out to sea at the distant passing sailor,
knowing that I could them but that they could not see me-
just as my way of saying good morning to them,
and hoping that they too, and I,
would have a wonderful day.

From the ground the sky looks limitless;
from the sky, through the clouds, to the fields,
to the roads, to the people and the communities that I see-
everything and everyone looks like one, feels like one,
like the most resplendent and serene beauty.

Taking off into the vast blue and white
feels like ascending into another dimension of dark blue
between darkness and light-
the feeling in your stomach feels amazing, and unlike anything else-
your mind feels open with awe, like you have never felt.

Flying above the world below feels so natural,
as if we were all meant to always be among the clouds-
up here you feel so free of troubles, worries,
the future, the present, the past;
being up here never fails to astound.

Flying above the bright blue sea-
the wonder of what I am doing, what we are all doing,
every minute of every day overcomes me-
I feel more than I am, I feel more than I was,
I feel as I imagine an astronaut does
orbiting through space above the Earth-
like a baby in a mothers womb before birth.

Returning to land,
setting foot on the soft warm sand,
I feel like I have returned from a magical dream,
from somewhere, and to somewhere, I have never been-
changed, but still the same:
one of the magical gifts that you receive from flying on a plane.

You feel like you are a child all over again:
experiencing the thrill of take-off, flight, freedom-
like seeing a painting expand beyond the borders of a frame.

When we fly, by any means, we become like a bird in our mind,
in which all the destinations that we travel to
are like the branches of a tree,
and the more places that we go,
the more that we want to fly to truly be.

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