I arrived with the wonder of something new
but knowing it was so familiar.
Months, days, in the journey, slowly mulling it over, breathing and hoping on the
then a sudden, sudden rush to arrive.
Expectant with a fever that only fills you in that briefest of moments which is arrival.
It was waiting patiently, soundless or at least with no one to hear it.
its voice echoes throughout, a language strange and familiar all at once.
I am not its first visitor today nor its last.
I think I’ve been here before or maybe that was a long lost cousin from the south.
I’ve not come to conquer, or name in my name like so many before.
Past navigators were brushed off with ease in here, making their home elsewhere.
We are friends.
It doesn’t say much. We don’t talk about how we feel or what we dream.
We look.
We stare.
I cannot be sure it sees me.
I know it feels me. Like I feel its touch.
Those huge lungs sinking the carbon without fuss or bother.
Legs never walking or running but stretching far and deep.
I linger for as long as is decided.
Witness to each other, to this moment, this briefest of stops in time.
We both know we need each other.
Without me it cannot grow and thrive.
Without it I cannot glisten and shine.
We are as one, forever connected.
until the sun breaks through and I slowly evaporate from sight.
Not forgotten nor lost
just waiting, waiting for when I am needed again



Simon Welsford is a filmmaker, writer, lecturer, and carpenter. His work includes the award-winning feature film “Jetsam”, multiple short films, and various commercial productions. One time course leader and senior lecturer at UCA, now to be found writing, creating, and building stuff in the wilds of west Wales.