Along This Foggy Coast

They will not let me see the world, these fickle and capricious gods, but I can hear the ocean’s ever-song serenade the sunrise.

The solitude is welcome, but loneliness is its shadow.

A gull’s melancholy call summons the rest to wake, and in the distance, the prayer-songs of the fishermen carry on the wafting wind, their petitions for full nets and safe returns, and I add my voice to theirs in spirit.

The hissing surf trades my future hopes for barnacled memories that spin on the restless waves. They say I must rejoin this weary world, leaving sand and surf behind as I gather my humanity back to me like children collecting shells and stones.

I bid the foggy morn farewell, and walk back to greet life with a kiss.

 

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