Years Flow Like Water, Never to Return

Life blossoms in the ocean of time, raising wave after wave of quietly tumultuous foam. It seems endlessly vibrant, yet in the end the waves of the years wash it again and again into loneliness. At last, all falls still, leaving only a tranquil harbor beneath the moon. When the sea breeze blows, it feels somewhat stifling and oppressive. The wind whistles past, “Whoosh, whoosh,” accidentally leaving behind vast stretches of blank black-and-white footage, lingering in a lonely pose. Perhaps you have already forgotten, having long since forgotten that you forgot here, beneath time’s harbor.