Skip to main content

Mountain Mind, Beachy Heart.



Hey kid, down here. Yea, right here.


Let’s talk about mountains and tides—two forces that couldn’t be more different but can’t seem to leave each other alone. Mountains stand tall, strong, and unyielding, while the tides quietly roll in, brushing against their edges, daring them to notice. It’s a dance, a push and pull, and maybe… it’s a love story.


You stand there, so sure of yourself, like nothing could ever touch you. But mountains aren’t untouched—they feel wind, the rain, and the quiet press of time. And while you’re busy gazing at the stars, have you ever noticed the tide below, brushing against you? It doesn’t scream, it doesn’t demand—it just lingers, steady, waiting for you to look down.


• Mountain Mind, Beachy Heart •


You stand like a mountain, unshaken, tall,

Mapping your future, claiming it all.

But I linger, wild and free,

Whispering things your mind won’t let you see.


Your thoughts are solid, like lines in stone,

But my voice hums stories that won’t leave you alone.

You build a new world, sharp and strong,

Yet wonder if I’ve been calling you all along.


Do mountains crave the chaos they lack?

The rush of something that pulls them back?

Do you feel it, the pull, the ache,

For something softer, something that breaks?


I don’t beg, don’t ask to stay,

But I linger quietly, brushing your way.

And you, with your plans so perfectly made,

Feel my rhythm cut through the silence you’ve laid.


Would you let me reach you, just once, just right,

Break the quiet, flood the night?

Or will you stay, your peaks apart,

Unmoved by the swell of this beachy heart?


If I kissed the edge of your name,

Would you let me touch or remain the same?

Do you long for the pull that won’t fall apart,

To calm the storm of your mountain mind, beachy heart?


Oh honey, the tide is patient, but it won’t stay,

It kisses the edges, then slips away.

And you, so certain, so sharp, so strong,

Will you notice me only when I’m gone?


But my love, the waves don’t plead, they just arrive,

Quiet and constant, keeping dreams alive.

And you, the mountain, so guarded, so high,

Will you ever answer, or just watch me pass by?






The tide doesn’t wait forever, you know. It’ll pull away as quietly as it came, leaving you to your stone and silence. And here’s the truth: mountains may stand tall, but they still crumble under the softest touch of time.


So, if you’re the mountain, and the tide keeps brushing against your edges—what are you going to do? Will you stay unmoved, unyielding, and watch it drift away? Or will you let it linger, just once, to remind you what it feels like to soften, to bend, to change?


Maybe that’s the question we all face, at one point or another: Are we the mountains, or are we the tide? And who do we become when we finally let them meet?


Oh well.






Until next time,

Love always,

S


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

When the stars gazed back at us.

  When the stars gazed back at us,  it was not about beginnings; it was about recognition. About that rare, almost fleeting moment when the universe did not feel distant or indifferent, but attentive, almost complicit. ;) I woke up remembering you, All your words, old and new. Of dreams I hold of lands unseen, As if your name’s the hum I’ve known, your face the only thing I’ve seen. Even the sun bears your name,  Without you, rain feels strangely tame. They may call me mad, broken, or even wrongly built, I’d still reduce to dust all that may keep us apart, without remorse or even a speck of guilt. You and me, we took an oath, To be each other’s home through misery and gloat. If I were to do it all over again, I would, of course, I would, Wouldn't change a thing even if I could. I’ve held you through your sin, you’ve seen me through my crime Miles and miles I’ve carried all your shadows; you have borne witness to mine.  Across all lives, though you forg...

Miss you like an old song.

Somewhere between an old radio song, a cold vanilla latte, and emotional unemployment, I wrote  (blows raspberries )  THIS?!  *insert debating one’s own sanity [poet really only means the curtains are blue] You know those people who leave so quietly that even silence starts sounding like them after a point? Excruciating enough  that some nights, memory shows up disguised as curiosity and suddenly you’re three hours deep into old interviews, random reddit  ravel   (wtf is even that?!) , blurry photographs, and strangers loving/hating someone like they discovered them first.  And somehow, against all logic, one might still end up offended… as if the world was supposed to know that your silence around them was sacred. When they sometimes wanna make you drag out of the perfectly made (very very comfortable) cocoon then climb on top of that rooftop yell (softly though) for them to bloody get out of their head, how they’ve stretched out the liberty by far m...

Miles of space to play with

People like to believe the universe is some grand orchestrator, shuffling fate cards like a moody blackjack dealer. But sometimes, it just sits back with popcorn and watches two people fumble their way into a slow-burning disaster that smells vaguely of espresso and unresolved tension. Enter Nat and Miles, two souls with more chemistry than a freshman lab fire, and just about as much common sense. By now, I assume you know Miles a bit. So allow me to introduce Nat. Nat. Now there’s a piece of work the universe clearly cooked up on a cheeky day. All sharp wit, unreadable playlists, and the kind of elegance that doesn’t try, it just is. She walks into a room like she already knows the ending but still watches everyone else catch up. She’ll dissect a business pitch, write a blog that punches through your chest, and still look vaguely annoyed that you haven’t figured out how she takes her coffee (strong, like her opinions, with a splash of skimmed milk and quiet judgment). But don’t be foo...