The Why

Each grain of sand,

the clouds, the sea, the wind, the trees,

the sun, the island in the distance;

all that makes the beach what it is.


You, sitting under the shade,

rum coke in hand, staring out into the horizon,

lost in thought;

you being here,

me watching you,

makes the moment what it is.


Without us present,

the beach is still a beach;

The clouds floats above the waters,

the fish will swim beneath the waves,

the sun will shine as brightly as it always has.


But what would be the point?



2 thoughts on “The Why

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