June 9, 2019

The ocean keeps pulling me to it, as if inviting me to be more and more brave in its deeper blues. And I hold still, a strange fascination for it. Strange because when I am in it, I am always both terrified and exhilarated. Never just one or the other.

I still come to it often when I feel overwhelmed, just to sit by it and remember how very small I am. A lone candle aflame on a shore as windy as it will ever be. I could go out at any time, and the tide will rise and take me with it to the belly of the ocean. And I’ll simply be food for fish or trash that doesn’t belong, like plastic.

It reminds me too that things are only as important as I make them

A lone candle can be swallowed whole by an impartial ocean

A lone candle too, can light a million others.


P.S- Crabs will run at any moving thing smaller in size than they are. This one will probably go home with stories of a sticky ball that was interesting but more importantly, not food. That one will tell of a jade green rock that was sugar sweet; that they simply chose not to carry. They truly do not know sweet even when it’s staring at them in their faces, these salty bastards!

Made of Sand
Not Dura, but Alaminadura

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