The days come and go like waves, every one different yet somehow the same. The beach is like a scimitar, edge aglisten, the sands white
silence, dead shells and paw print echoes that come and go in the wind.
It's tempting to wonder if and when, whether there's more to life than sun and stars, moon and storms. Honestly I doubt I'll ever truly
know.
And so...
I think the ocean has much to teach. It's patient, has watched the rise of sentience and civilization, was the birthplace of origin. It's
been the cradle of generations, empires, hurricanes and science and philosophy. From the waves came everything, and I feel deep down that
too is how everything will end.
I found the strangest shell today, the ridges glittering and iridescent, a shard of rainbow made hard and real. As I hold it and look
towards the sky my hackles rise, for haunting drifting cumulonimbus clouds towering white and puffy is the ghost of the moon.
I can almost feel the Earth turn.
Where to next? The dinosaur exit, the rise of man, an engineered virus, corporations finally clawing back the veil of space...in times to
be perhaps we'll better understand the cosmos? Right or wrong, rise and fall.
Does that matter to a drunk like me? I suppose not, yet I'm hopeful for the rest of you. If I'm lucky I guess I'll witness the start, even
if my existence was yet another quiet, worn and weathered stone on the road to the destined end.
I do so miss you Balto.