The Ocean.

The ocean was calm this morning as I wound my way down the side of the mountain, through the trees, and towards the shore. The wide open blue stretched herself in front of me under a glistening sun. What does she make of me, I wonder. What does she make of us, come to her shores to bury our feet in her sand, ponder our insignificance, take comfort in our small place in this oh so wonderfully grand world. I must know something, I think, and nothing all at once. The mind is a tricky tool, too clever for its own good. We would be better off, I think, staring into the nothingness. Being carried away by the stars. Throwing ourselves like heavy rocks into the waves, allowing ourselves to be smoothed by the centuries. Grains of sand, channels of light, smooth as stone, or pearls.