No end in sight, just the endless seat, leaving her to
choose which way to go now that she has ended up nowhere.
In calmer seas and other times, she always spied a
destination of some wort, a bit of sand in that vast expanse, a safe harbor to
drop anchor in, in order for her to swim ashore, maybe thinking each island
will have a buried treasure for her to find.
Now, any direction is better than none, though it is always
difficult to decide. She always aching for immortality when as the poet she
loved in college said, the only real immortality is death, none of us, friend or
foe, want that fore her, even when we can’t see what she wants for herself,
this endless horizon, this vast space upon which there seems to no place to go.
But she is a determined sailor, and once she gets over this
setback, she will sail on, sails unfurled, finding some place else to go,
something to steer for, another big of sand, another buried treasure to dig up.
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