It's really quite wonderful.
When I was 20 I traveled through Europe, and ended up on the island of Naxos in Greece. I have no idea what it's like today, but back then you could freely wander down to the edge of the island where the rocks jutted out into the sea, and rest amidst the ruins of an ancient temple which sat right by the water. Few people were ever there, certainly no tourists, and if you went down there at night there was never a soul.
I used to sit there alone at night underneath the Mediterranean sky next to that wine dark sea and listen to the waves lapping at the base of the ruins. I was overcome by the weight of centuries, overcome with an emotion that I can't quite describe or put my finger on, only that it was deep and powerfully mystical. If only I were a poet, perhaps I could capture some of that in words.
Alas, I am not.