Sky loved the beach. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore before rolling back out to the ocean, the feel of the spray across his skin. The crunch of the sand between his toes, and the feel of the sun beating down across his back, the light filtering down through clouds and myriads of little water droplets. The sky was a deep, aching blue, and what few clouds there were this day seemed heavy and dense, more like painted backdrops than actual moisture.
He was wearing some beach shorts, and had his swords strapped to his back. He just couldn't stand to leave them behind, he always felt naked without them and besides, without fail, every time he left them somewhere he ended up needing them later. The young man walked down the beach, lost in his thoughts, but still absorbed and fully present in the world around him. As he walked, a few sparks danced across the palm and fingers of his left hand, a nervous gesture he had when he was lost in his thoughts.
On this day, Sky was wrestling with himself and with his world. What did it mean, to be here? To be, an endlessly precious gift that, more often than not, was squandered. In this one instant of infinity, what was the point? The suns rays shined down on all, illuminating indiscriminately, and so it suddenly seemed to him, so must it be with time. Time shone down, indiscriminately and without divide, just as all the suns light is the sun, or all the oceans waters is the ocean, so to is time composed not of many many seconds and minutes, but rather, time is and seconds/minutes are what result when a conscious mind experiences time.
But still, all of this glory, all of creation seemed to be for no purpose. Yes, the sun shone and the sand received the heat, storing it up and releasing it back into the world to burn his feet. It seemed to him, that everflowing optimist, that all the world was for no more purpose, than to achieve itself. it is what it is. In this way, Sky finds himself again at a point where he had stood in his youth, and came to the same realization that he had declared so loudly then: that in this world of infinite possibilities, you are what you make of it, and he so boldly decided to make Good, wherever he could. Funny, how one could rerealize the same thing and understand something new.
He plops down into the sand, reaching down and grabbing a scoop of sand, he watched as it filtered out of his fingers. He heaved a sigh, shrugging out of his swords harness he lays heavily onto the sand, oddly reminiscent and deepthinking, so far apart from his normal blank, clear and positive mind.
He was wearing some beach shorts, and had his swords strapped to his back. He just couldn't stand to leave them behind, he always felt naked without them and besides, without fail, every time he left them somewhere he ended up needing them later. The young man walked down the beach, lost in his thoughts, but still absorbed and fully present in the world around him. As he walked, a few sparks danced across the palm and fingers of his left hand, a nervous gesture he had when he was lost in his thoughts.
On this day, Sky was wrestling with himself and with his world. What did it mean, to be here? To be, an endlessly precious gift that, more often than not, was squandered. In this one instant of infinity, what was the point? The suns rays shined down on all, illuminating indiscriminately, and so it suddenly seemed to him, so must it be with time. Time shone down, indiscriminately and without divide, just as all the suns light is the sun, or all the oceans waters is the ocean, so to is time composed not of many many seconds and minutes, but rather, time is and seconds/minutes are what result when a conscious mind experiences time.
But still, all of this glory, all of creation seemed to be for no purpose. Yes, the sun shone and the sand received the heat, storing it up and releasing it back into the world to burn his feet. It seemed to him, that everflowing optimist, that all the world was for no more purpose, than to achieve itself. it is what it is. In this way, Sky finds himself again at a point where he had stood in his youth, and came to the same realization that he had declared so loudly then: that in this world of infinite possibilities, you are what you make of it, and he so boldly decided to make Good, wherever he could. Funny, how one could rerealize the same thing and understand something new.
He plops down into the sand, reaching down and grabbing a scoop of sand, he watched as it filtered out of his fingers. He heaved a sigh, shrugging out of his swords harness he lays heavily onto the sand, oddly reminiscent and deepthinking, so far apart from his normal blank, clear and positive mind.
