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good ole man and the sea

C

Everything about us is neither permanent or real. All the laws, logic, and ideals, fade. Erode and fall into evolution. Is that philosophy? Ask Darwin to not put everything in categories but to draw roadmaps between what will be and what is around the bend. The past gets lost the same way lovers walk hand in hand, to the end of a pier. They gaze in union, hope becomes ability. The horizon, limited only if someone says so. It’s fun to step on the worn warped boards that only make creaks when the nails tells them so. When you get to the end of this road that has only one end, nothing is fun till it’s letting go.

   Those faceless, countless, lovers. Lovers for awhile, lovers for eternity. They all see the view. The expanse. Some kiss in the dawn, some recoil at dusk, or the other way around. It isn’t the love that is romantic. The moment is second to the future. Third to the past. That’s what you’re supposed to feel there with your lover at the end of the pier. Above the ocean. A melting of time. Past, present, and future. If you are really romantic and made the most of the moment you would feel all moments of time together. But really, who ever shares that with someone else? That’s why all the fishermen on the wooden road to nowhere remain nostalgic. Their best fish stories aren’t about the one they have caught. As they were when romance was first discovered, they are about the one that got away. The love that was not.

   How did people discover that we were the most intelligent species? Something is slighted in that. That vain thinking would be parallel to a bookie making odds on a fight between a blind snail and a dead fish. Most people would bet on the live snail but walk away from any reward since victory would take too long to determine therefore given to the side that could only wish.  Was there a conference with the rest of the animal kingdom? Maybe since people are the sole reason and inheritors of religion, through divinity, we have us some smarts? Ask me, nobody does, those kind of smarts ain’t nothing if nothing don’t mean a thing. I don’t mean to rhyme but it isn’t just you that bell does toll and ring.

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