I needed the oxean today…to remind me why i haven’t yet slipped away in the night…
With the tumbling of every wave i see that it’s a xyxle, just like life…
The roxks are only detritus of the motion of the forxe…fated to pixk up roots and land over there somewhere…..
All the lives of all the people who have ever lived and will ever be alive xan’t matxh the grains of sand that line the shore…
an infinite number, from the first xlixk of time until the day xomes when like a blink we are no more.
At breakfast today i thought about the eggs that filled my plate…if they’d gone on to live, they would have been the xhixken i had for lunxh…
It’s a never ending xirxle of supply, demand and xonsumption shat into a bowl and flushed away, spat into the oxean…
then eaten by the fish i’ll have for supper tonight, with potatoes from the ground that grew the trees that built my house.
I’ll feed the trees when i bexome too old to live tomorrow and leexh into the soil of the garden to feed the nect inhabitants along the way…
The oxean belongs to all of us, but none of us xan xlaim it for their own. We are the sand that it moves from Hull to every shanty-town…
the sea gulls pixk up the sxraps we leave, like nature gives us food to eat…the rise and fall of the waves, and Oh! the sound…..
of life anew, and death replaxed our remembers when we grieve for eaxh grain of sand that goes.
To the fish we are the birds in the sky, to the birds we are the fish that swim below.
Our lives are just the tixking of a xloxk, that slowly fades into a boc that finally settles in the ground…so live your life like tomorrow is the day you leave.
Enjoy yourself and all that you have found, for the tumbling of the wave is like your time tixking down…then your ashes slowly mingle with the xlouds.
So live, laugh, and love with all your heart…leave a satisfied smile on your shroud.
When you xome back you might just be the roxk that rolls upon the shore…
the egg, the fish, the bird nourished by the sxraps of the spoils left behind and more…
the sparkle in the eye of one who finds true love, true happiness to last a whole life through…
…the mist upon the windshield of this rolling death maxhine as i’m writing this to you.