Pebbles sitting in my hand.

Here I stand on the beach my feet buried in the sand, my eyes straining out to sea, tiny pebbles dry and rough sitting in my hand. I used to think I was special , one of a kind but like these pebbles in my palm I am just one of many vessels.

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I can not help but wonder how many waves have washed this beach. How many sun sets and sun rises have graced this lonely place. I throw a pebble out to sea and wander where it may reach.

The breeze is gentle on my face unlike your caress, so many times I looked for you but found only emptiness. Another pebble I release and this one  skims the surface. I’ve never managed that before it brings a  fleeting smile to my face and gives me a new purpose.

There is not another soul on the beach I stand here alone the suns has nearly gone now but I do not want to go home. How many little sea shell has the sea deposited here then over time ground them down and turned them into sand. How many stars are there up in the night sky both question sound too grand.

The waves are lapping at my feet I feel it through the sand  it is dark now as I release another pebble from my hand. The breeze no longer warm has found a sudden chill I feel somehow I should move but I just do not have the will.

My hand is almost empty now like my shrunken heart. I look out to the horizon make one last wish and throw this lonely pebble like a dart. The moon has climbed up in the sky I ought to move , but why. The water washes up my legs I look into my soul and count the dregs there is not much left to save. I walk forward then start to swim out to a watery grave.

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