The walk that leads to the massive spread — glistening under the rays of the fiery sky — always indulges my steps with anticipation.
Revelers and players of life congregate to feast on what they have left. The remainders multiply as each wave ushers in new promises.
I dive in legs first.
The rush of a well-deserved welcome pushes my spirit to wade in deeper. The effortless hug that grips but releases you with reassurance — never fails to exhale the mental filth of a survivor.
To go under without wings and rise again with a cleansed soul and pure heart is the gift of regained coins that gather to enrich weathered spirits.
I toss around to manage the weight of awesomeness that wants to play even when I contemplate staying forever.
But I have to go back to being swallowed by the shallow offerings of earth and mankind.
One last dip and my love converts into salt- less tears that are rejected with another mounting wave — that crushes my defeat with love and well-wishes.
It is well to love and be loved in return. That is what I learn when I beg the ocean to receive me.
One last time. But then the sky…