They are the only ones watching me. I am the only one watching them. Endless rolling waves with sharp white crests and deep blue troughs. Waves that are always in a hurry but never know where they are going. Waves which carry birds, boats, and bottles from the coast to nowhere.
Their resolve is tireless. They crash violently on the rocks. They rush in and they fade out and wander back toward the sunset and descend back down to the trenches. This is how they move.
Let one decide to be still, they’d all lie down like fallen leaves, uniformly lifeless. Move, move, move, waves say I’ve got something to prove. They push.
When I am too tired and to broken to keep going, when I feel I might drown in the enormity of it all, then it is I watch the waves. When there is nothing left to look at on this heap of soil. Waves who have no home. Waves who move and do not forget to keep moving. Waves whose only reason is to come and go.