May 15, 2016
Self-made boundaries
The line is drawn carefully and firmly with a stick dragging its way through the sand. She knows it's there, she stands right before it. But what is a beach with no sand? They tend to come hand in hand. It's there, it's there, it's there. High tide approaches, seen from a distance. It's there, it's there, it's there. The foam washes up, closer and closer; Until it washes away the line as if it were never there. She stares at the waves who throw themselves at the now indistinguishable markings. Throw themselves at her bare feet. She sinks into the sand, the stick is lost amidst the sea. A vast open space of nothingness, As it is gone gone gone.