Can I Live here?

I like this method of communication.
Where what is said
has been thought about,
worked through,
and the silence between...
...is not awkward.
 It is to me
 the word becoming flesh.
Not ?
just hovering in the ether to dissapear
as memory distances it from existance.
I write this as I sit upon a log,
on a beach,
in a fresh offshore breeze,
with a wave periodically rushing up and circling me,
as I sit high and dry upon my lofty perch.
The rising sun is out and warms my face.
I am finding my Rest.
I am still.
I am knowing my God.
Can I live here?