Back to shore

This vessel had been launched to the digital sea to see what it may catch.

Or perhaps, it had been launched as a mere necessity.  The act of sharing and reaching out being a function of cathartic communication.

And as I’ve set fire to the beached dinghy I feel saddened.  Not at an obviously flawed venture. Nor as a measure of disappointment in what I had discovered on my rocky journey.  But of what I found upon my drifting back to the beach.

What I’ve discovered is that the island is still deserted.

No wild life, no brightly colored bird folk, no crustaceans scrabbling upon the sun-baked sands under my weary feet, no spiders weaving webs in the trees, no irritating insects to complain about, and certainly no god to hear my sighs.

So my assumption is that my scribbling in the sand shall be swiftly consumed by the tides.

I hope, no, I do not hope.  Merely as a function of survival, I wish that I may have need or compulsion for another life raft.  I am willing and capable of crafting such a flotation.

But….

Marooned on my placid and melancholy mid-ocean protrusion, I debate my next venture.  For I know the sea is fickle, unpredictable, and merciless.

I know I will not be planning my travels soon.  This last venture left me with infrequent glimpses of birds at the horizon and fins cutting water at a distance.  Knowing these are unlikely to sustain this weary voyager, I retreat to my desolate beach side reverie.

Humbly, sadly, morosely, and so far away from you, I send this message in a bottle.

J

One thought on “Back to shore

  1. I went along with this restless, adventuresome sailor. I heard his tales of rough seas, and whiskey binges, and beautiful sunsets and sunrises. He did set sail. Finding fewer mates to accompany him and to hear his tales than he had hoped, he returned to what seemed a barren shore. He ventured. Not seeking anything in particular, nor finding uncharted islands, still he ventured.
    The discoveries were mostly within. Could I go? Can I command my vessel and my gear? Could I tell my stories? Could I sing my songs? Yes, and yes again. You told them well, and sung them true. Some listened, learned bits of how you the see the world. Some laughed, ranted, observed, and groaned right along with you.
    You set sail, and now you returned for a spell. You’ll go another day, wiser, stronger, more skilled, more free. Thanks for the courage to go, and for taking us along.

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