The waves crash onto the shore, violently moving the sand, modifying the rhythm of the trees. How different it would be in the middle of the sea. These same waves of destruction would just drift along, dispersing into its wealth and be forgotten.
I think I used to be a part of a ship. A large one that sailed the oceans with pride and purpose. Slicing the water under the strength of our unity. But now, scorched and covered in salt, slow progress is made, moving towards an unforeseen goal, riding the waves that the land finds so treacherous.
Out here alone, there is a peace found with the dangerous.
A balance in solitude.
Contentment in branching out, away.
I'm just a small piece of wood.
Can you measure my happiness?
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