the stone. the wind. the ocean. the tree.

it’s becoming a familiar ache. i thought i’d be okay. okay. i’m the stone, unmoving as the world floats away. but i moved for the wind and its whispery song. it said get to the ocean. you might find you belong.

but the ocean is certain to come and to go. i had just waded in when it left me alone. stone sinks in wet sand. i’m feeling so low. i’m thinking maybe i should dash away now. but the wind comes in whispering. says the waves will return. should i wait to learn? wait wait and yearn? the ocean is certain to come and to go. it left me. it left me. i’m sinking alone.

i must be a tree. i can bend. i can breathe. i thought i was rock. but i must be wood. i’ll turn into a dock. like the wind said i should.

and wait wait wait. for the ocean is certain to come and to go. somehow i think in the return i’ll know… that the ocean won’t leave me again. i’ll let it wash over me. meet each wave with a grin…. a smart stone stays away from the sand. a wise tree stays rooted in unmoving land. but the wind once came calling, and i bent to its song. now i’m waiting and aching. i’m probably wrong. i’ve never been wrong.

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