I write when I cannot sleep. Rambling thoughts while hanging out at the beach.

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Dearest Great Granddaughter

The sea, child, has moods of its own.The light, the tides and even the footsteps of those who walk on her ancient foundations thousands of paces away can make her sway sweetly or thunder
Only at the sea do the voices of The Five sound loudly in my ears. ‘How strange you are…. creating instruments to measure something that does not exist….’I have often wondered why They chose to speak to me of time. Perhaps they knew before I did what was to come…

Have you ever, great grand daughter, stared into the eyes of one who has drained all your love from their being? Have you seen it child, felt it…that place of no hope, where the knife never leaves your throat and the bones of the dead never stop marching? Life forces expansion at times Faraway Girl. Some edges cannot be avoided nor the blood that will be spilt in its wake. The sharper the edge the greater your certainty. But when you feel the knife edge razing your skin, stop. Breathe. Wait…. and remember you cannot run out of something that does not exist.

Stop. Breathe. Wait.

The sea never calls to those who are ready. She calls to ready those who do dare.

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