Too Early to Title

Are you here?
You’ve been searching,
collecting clues;
perhaps this segment
of sea will weed or
reveal identity truths.

Just you here
and your mind.
What do you carry?
What have you
left behind?

Look about.
Family. Strangers.
One in the same.
Or entirely different?

Who has come
to search,
and what for?
Who will leave
with less, 
with more?

So many shells,
filled and hollow.
So many opportunities
made and lost
among people. 

Memories can be made.
Promises broken. 
Second chances given. 
Losses counted. 

Each drop significant, 
each drop matters,
though so vast is
the ocean’s water. 

Water is one,
a singular thing.
We don’t count drops
until we are thirsty. 

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Mountain and Sea


Few analogies have I found or invented that are better at representing the division of past and future than the classic mountain ridge.

Even from that perspective, though, perception of the future and bigger picture is limited. The immediate past comes into painfully-clear focus, but once we begin to descend into the future, that ridge blocks our view, and often, I suppose, that’s a good thing, for forward-looking is needed to safely traverse new territory and mindfulness is essential in fully appreciating the new surroundings. With more and more distance from that past comes the fading of memories. We must choose wisely which ones we hold fast to. The best seem the wisest to devote ourselves to preserving.

I suppose the same concept can be found at sea.

What safety there has always been in a shore, feet planted, whether bare in the soft, warm sand or focused on the rocks beneath the sole, land is steady, predictable terrain. The ocean may be a turbulent past we escaped from, near-drowning in bad choices and unfavorable circumstances, salt-water upon our faces. Losing sight of the shore is only half the scare, for who knows what lies beneath at those dark depths. Perhaps our past brought no waves of pain. Perhaps we are just trying to remember the best things drifting too far away from our memories. We desperately search for messages in bottles to touch, always out of reach.

But what if the sea is our future?

And we are missing out clinging to the shore, afraid of the adventure, the unknown. After all, 99.9% of the living space on Earth is out there. We are but one of a trillion species on this rock alone. From dust to dust, at peak development, we are still but a speck. We have already explored this less-than-one-percent. We are by nature, it seems, called to the sea from the shores. There is something out there. We feel it. Something more. Perhaps the dirt is indeed our past. Our gravity to this moment.

Perhaps, we should never take for granted nor forget. We are masterpieces of a loving creator. Upon an infinite canvas.

Prose and image ©LauraDenise