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A
Boy
Called
David
Eats
Fruit
Gingerly
Happy
In
Jubilation
Knowing
Life’s
Meaning
Never
Obligates
People
Questioning
Reason
See
The
Universal
Variables
With
Xenial
Youthful
Zeal

This morning, at daybreak,
as the tide came in and went out and came in again,
I wrote my name in the sand with a black stone,
in the place of a pen.
Writing my name so close to the beach’s end
I knew that it would not be long before the sea washed it away,
as if it had never been there-
but it is something that I have wanted to do for so long.

For every letter that I wrote
I could see that the tide was coming in faster with every passing second,
so I wrote every letter of every word as fast as I could-
it was like a race against time to write my name
there in the sun soaked sand, before it was washed away like a flood.

We all leave footprints, hand-prints,
names in the sands of time, as we travel through the world
from sunrise to sunset, from sunset to sunrise-
what we see of the world does not end with what we see with our eyes.

Most of what we do is temporary;
most of what happens to us surges and then settles, like ocean spray;
most of what we build within us is gone by the next day.
Some of the things that stand the test of time are invisible on first look,
and that is why they are untouched:
rock-faces, islands, channels, rivers-
when you look at them you can see natures signature in its sculpture,
and because of the perfection that you see,
you can tell that nature does not rush.

Our lives are sparks in a fire;
our interactions with each-other are like waves on a sea;
our fates are entwined together like holding hands;
our voices may be small in the chorus of the cosmos,
but I think that there is something wonderful and powerful
about something so simple as writing your name in the sand.

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