Sometimes we stand on the edge of a cliff, tears streaming down from our blank e

yes down to our pale cheeks, watching a ship sail away to unknown lands. We unco
nsciously strain our vision, reaching out with our soul just to see the last whi
te sail sink down into the edge of the world; our world. We know she sails somew
here we cannot follow. It is always like that when the winds blow half the world
away -- we always are not allowed to follow.
The horizon turns to velvet richness and finally the unbearable cold sinks deep
into our bones. We shake, not with fear, but because we know how brittle our hea
rt has become. The mere brush of fate's icy breath could shatter us into million
s of pieces. We shudder but force our limbs to revive and we turn our backs from
the sea. The crashing waves call as it demands us not to leave it behind. But w
e cannot hear it. We are still deaf from our own cries.
The walk towards home is an uneventful journey. There is that monumental task of
sifting through the rubble once we get inside our normal life. Absent minded, w
e burrow into the deepest crevice of our blanket as if to ward off the chill of
being alone in our heads. We stare into darkness until the dawn comes and kisses
us softly on our cheeks -now ashen but warm.
We get up and sweep the dust under our rugs. We move, detached from yesterday an
d moving with extreme lightness towards the future. At the end of what seemed li
ke an eternity, we face the cliff, the waves calm and settled. We wonder what ha
s passed as the sun pierces our eyes. We breathe in --forgetting...yet anxiously
, we wait. We see the tip of her white sails rip across the edge of the world an
d we smile. We only remember this joy --nothing else-- as we run down the path t
owards the beach.