Thoughts in the Sand
A delusional mononlogue of a pondering character on the sandy shores of a beach in Israel...
~ A philosopher's letter in a bottle
The shorelines, silent, just until another wave crashes into the sand and shatters into hundreds of small crystalline shards that glimmer with a brilliant shine as they lay exposed to the suns delicate rays. Their moment of glory, short lived, stolen as they are pulled back by the foam that withdraws into the ocean. Leaving wet sand for us to run over bare...
A sigh, relief, the world was on mute for a sands drift away into the air, carried by an occasional breeze... If only I was that speck of sand, so very careless in the midst of many others. But now, suddenly the voices seep back into reality, through my ears, I notice the sounds of small crustaceans and the wind passing by me, softly caressing my hair along It's path, feels as though it was being ruffled by a proud parent... I feel small drops tapping over my forehead in a hypnotic rhythm and flowing down slowly, carefully...
Rain?... The sky is clear, no cloud in sight, I wonder...
Suddenly I recall lying over my backpack, and my canteen left open just not long ago, but my memories melted away along with my sense of time. I don't care enough to wake up from my day-dream, since it is my realm, my moments of precious perfection... The waves come closer, and than go away... Like you my dear. And now they carry small debris onto shore that some ungratefully fool tossed somewhere along the road. I can now see the white seagulls on the rocky island close to the shore, the one we used to swim to all too often. I still recall the water's salty taste, ironically it made me thirsty. But those seaguls no longer fly in circles around me... no longer sing their song to me with their hoarse voice.
I notice the fisherman standing close to the shoreline, my shoreline, and his eyes lack it's prior shine, completely emotionless. A long wooden stick with a wire and bait is his only weapon and he stares into the deep reaches of dark blue with vast patience. His mind consumed with some primitive instinct to hunt, though it seems he is guided by great experience. And while he reels it in, my eyes follow the small ripples the wire creates accross the water's surface... Yet I already know, the bait is gone, the fish escaped, never deceived by your disguise... He wont ever come back, because I warned him once in my dream...
So now I lay delusional, left to ponder. But than again... sanity is overrated.
I've come to a complete understanding, but my will gave in to nothing. Torn from all my materialistic desires I lack the simple ambition to wake up a second day. And now I may only hope to be inspired, but well, I mustn't hope... I must know that my day will come, my time to shine... My small precious moments of glory, short lived... Like the drops that form this masterpiece of liquid dreams. And so I must declare this ocean is my proof, of the maker's existence... For only he can create something as pure.
Now Slowly the waves consume my every wish, like that crumpled piece of paper i sent abroad in a disposed bottle of glass... that note you never got, that made you think that i don't care... And...
I fall asleep...