The Barren Shore
The Barren Shore Along the barren shore, this old man watches the waves calmly. Along that barren shore, this figure sits steady, in awe of the scene, as though the sun's rays still warm his skin. His mind, a flooded canvas of broken pieces and wonderful art, none of them the main focus in his heart. It all just feels like the waves, crashing over and over at his core— the sins of battles lost and won inside. The peace of mind he craves the most. As he ponders, he sees them all— those ghosts of the past. He imagines different paths and what could have been. If all of it was worth it. Did his present justify the means? If the love he left in the sand would have blossomed at all, would it have washed ashore, or would a storm have turned his world into disarray? Was it worth it, the gamble? Would he have it any other way? Along this barren shore, this old man watches the sun merge with the waves— a beautiful sight in its own right. Not on his deathbed, but it feels eerily similar to w...
