Entry 1: Wet Sand

The latest clique of frigid Pacific waves crashes as I stand ankle-deep at Ocean Beach, my gaze fixed on the horizon. Like their predecessors, they approach forebodingly, intent on inching closer and annexing the defenseless sand into their aquatic dominion. They crash short of their goal and mount one final surge toward the shore, yet fail to reach the line where wet sand yields to dry. Forgotten as they recede, Luna summons her next fleet of noble cadets to conquer the beach. The pattern repeats several times before the boundary advances and the kingdom of wet sand quietly expands its frontier. Yet even then, the waves recede without triumph, perpetually fated to advance and retreat without an end in sight.

I'd like more than anything to escape the cycle of summons. Only time will tell whether I, too, will recede into the homogeneous ocean of consciousness, conceding defeat on my current endeavor and awaiting dispatch for the next.