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.
My Write Mind 