it is morning, (it is always morning except when it is not) the fog is heavy and we break out of the crust of shore, fracture ourselves from the particle of being and become. outward we go unknowingly, knowing in our core only the pull of particle being through the long (if we are lucky) reverberating string that extends itself through our lifetime. one day we will find the island and climb aboard, once again, that which is our home.
