English Composition: A Sacred Place?

It is that time of day where I am not quite sure whether it is morning or evening or if the sun is rising or setting. That is until I walk through the grass and take note of the dew. It is morning…that’s right. No one is around except for me and nothing is awake except for me, not even the stars. I feel as if I just woke up, rested but making my way through the cobwebs. The only sound that I can hear are my own steps crushing the leaves and twigs under foot, which alone is enough to make my ears bleed.

This is my sacred place, even though it isn’t a place--at least a specific one. It is one of many places. They are the collective memory of my definition of sacred. The best thing is I don’t know where it is and so neither can you. That way nobody can ruin the purity of this place. No one will ever have the privilege of seeing this except in a dream. Everyone is too loud to know this place when they find it, so it is forever lost.

To portray this place only a picture or poem could ever do it justice. With both you require no sense of hearing and therefore you almost "leave it at the door." Only people with no ears could ever fully enjoy this place. Now only if we could have no mouths to make the noise that our ears hear. Maybe in that sense would a picture is more suiting. The only medium feasible, the medium that requires only eyes.