Compass

You are probably the most vague essence I have written to yet because you are both literal, referring to the sight that comes from eyeballs, and hypothetical referring to the insight that comes from perspective, backgrounds, and information; vision both external and internal.

This weekend I saw some of your best landscape and oceanic forms. 

I ran down a colorful street to find a small dock, boats rocking, water swaying, and a sun setting, rising above any expectations I could have had. 

I awkwardly danced over rocks to get to the edge of the icey water so that I could turn to either side and see the curves of the coast curl in, mountains climbing towards the sky. 

I straddled a wall lining the edge of a tiny town, one leg swinging to the music being sung by the painter (Oliver) who sat behind me as the red sun disappeared into the horizon. 

I awoke to take my espresso shot over to a ledge and sip it as the light early morning beams slowly trickled over the vertically stacked cliffs. 

And I dipped down to sea level to enjoy the little fishies and feel consumed by the height of your hanging city. 

But I got to thinking, what do other people see; what if everyone sees something different. 

Location does not determine you, rather the recipient does. 
My friend and I replayed a 10 second video nearly 100 times on our weekend trip and still found that we were rediscovering it, in a new way, with new detail and new laughs.

The concept of others seeing you differently was prompted when I looked out over your setting sun. 

It brought me home. (As I’ve been reminded, home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling). And I was looking straight there. 

As I fell into the horizon, I could see it. 

Not my literal house, as the one my parents reside in now is not the one I left behind. But I saw my fathers goofy mannerisms, heard my mom’s reactive laughter, and felt my sisters telepathic connection. 

Not even in a homesick way though, it’s just that I can’t help but see pieces of my home when I’m put in moments like this. 

And I know for a fact that others didn’t see my house.

But it is especially dependent on this giant burning star. 

I have stood atop roofs, towers, mountains, and steps to watch the same sun that has watched me all my life say good night from a new place. 

That completely boggles me. 
This consistency with my watchful sun is what often brings you full circle, regardless of where I am. 

It’s what intertwines my literal vision with my internal vision. 

It’s brings me longing, it gives me comfort, it takes me away, it carries me back, it turns me upside down, it lets me sit. 
My favorite accessory of yours is this ball of fire. I love how he feels on my skin, I love that he will shine on you wherever you are, and I love that he never says goodnight in the same way. 

I don’t know what other people see when they take a look at you, but I can imagine that they’re all different, based on your land form and the viewer. 
Either way, one thing we all see is that same sun; the bright soul that means something to each of us. 
It’s all about you, 

And your friend the sun.

Riley Makenna