The beach has seemed quieter the last few days, but the regulars are still there. We’re the ones who walk the boards hail or shine, good days and bad, even in the face of impending doom. Drawn to the sands, beckoned by the waters. Nothing can stop us. Nothing will. While the waves continue to crash, our souls will be free. While the breeze whispers, our problems blown away. The sand in our toes, attuning us to the language of the Earth herself. And she whispers a prayer of calm that eases our burdens.
We are the people of the boards, the walkers of Earth. We will be the calm in your storm.
Inside My Head
What is this pain inside my head?
Maybe I’m dying. Maybe I’m dead.
What if I live in this limbo state?
Where will I go? What is my fate?
My mind is collapsing. Am I insane?