The Last Sunrise

Prologue

I close my eyes as I float, light as a feather, becoming one with the waves. I let the warm, salty water wash away my fear and my fate, take control of my sadness and my pain. My body has become my enemy, perhaps it always has been, but now I’ve accepted it. The scale of fairness has tipped for me, and I can barely stand it, the injustice, the resentment. The only place where I’m just another particle of the earth is here in the water. The ocean doesn’t care about sickness or health, life or death, love or hate. It’s balanced, ever changing, never longing for more or less than it has, never lingering or stagnant. It keeps roaring, keeps us floating.

If I wasn’t such a cynic I would be inspired by its forgiveness, but I’ve become bitter and find it hard to appreciate something so graceful, so fair. Na?ve and easily taken advantage of. There is nothing lavish or luxurious about water, and even though our survival depends on it, we mistreat it, drain it, pollute it, but even still, it comes back to us, always, to nourish and keep us alive while we go out of our way to destroy it. If I were the sea, I would wash away every inch of this world, no regret.