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Ebbing

The water shifts, coming and going — a loss that takes something with it as it goes. The passage of time has not been kind, smoothing away the edges, erasing the very substance of the stone structure.

The outcropping dwells in the early tides of the sea. The horizon stretches on seemingly forever but the outcropping remains, ever equidistant from the shoreline. I study its jagged edges. A sadness enters my soul. Each shift in the water representing loss. The passage of time has not been kind, smoothing away the edges, erasing the very substance of the stone structure. And yet, the outcropping remains. Is this the slow goodbye?  

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