Cosmic Beach

We could see the place from the porch.

The mountains that ran off course.

The place by the cosmic sea of course.

Sand in our toes.

Sand in our eyes.

Sand in our souls.

Every grain of sand representing a thought.

Every line in your hand, representing a path we no longer travel on. Every silent woosh is a call back to previous lines from previous books, or books that are yet to be published.

Be still and I’ll see you at the cosmic beach.

Where we can refuel and refill.