Life Goes on Regardless

Life Goes on Regardless

Rising Tides Make it More Ephemeral Than Ever.

In the early morning light, the footprints on the beach formed a delicate dance, a testament to the fleeting beauty that lingered just beyond the shoreline. The golden sand stretched for miles, inviting the wanderlust in those who longed for an escape, a pause from the relentless march of time. The salty breeze carried the promise of adventure, and the rhythmic waves whispered secrets of a world where time and reality seemed to stand still. The scene was nothing short of an oblong sanctuary of tranquillity.

As the sun climbed higher, casting long shadows that mirrored the footsteps, the beach revealed itself as an oasis where one could lose oneself in the eternal dance between land and sea. The footprints became a visual poem, a fleeting expression of internal desires for something beautiful, something more than the mundane rhythm of daily life. It was as if the sand beneath those footprints held the essence of a dream that had yet to be fully realized.

But just as memories fade, so does the scene on the beach. The footprints blurred into the shifting sands, a metaphor for the transient nature of joy and bliss. The once vivid image dissolved, leaving only the essence of a momentary escape. The relentless tide, a constant reminder of the passing of moments, washed away the imprints of wanderlust, replacing them with the harsh reality of life's demands.

In that fleeting moment, reality came into sharp focus. The footprints were replaced by the harsh imprints of daily life—the responsibilities, the deadlines, the relentless clock ticking. It was a snapshot of the ceaseless march of time, a reminder that

Time and tide wait for no man.
—Geoffrey Chaucer (1343-1400)

The footprints, now mere ghosts of a momentary respite, stood as a stark contrast to the unyielding nature of time.

Yet, amidst the chaos of reality, there was a yearning, a contemplative gaze that sought beauty in the mundane.

Beauty in things exists in the mind which contemplates them.
— David Hume (1711-1776)

... whispered the wind, echoing a distant, untamed beauty. In the relentless rhythm of life, there was an invitation to find beauty not just in the extraordinary but in the ordinary, a challenge to see the world with fresh eyes and a contemplative heart.

The desire for exploration burned within, a relentless fire that refused to be extinguished. "We shall not cease from exploration," echoed in the heart, driving the weary soul to seek the uncharted, to rediscover the familiar and know it for the first time. The footprints, now washed away by the tide, became a metaphor for the journey of exploration, a path that left an indelible mark on the sands of time despite being fleeting and transient.

As the footprints vanished, the seeker's gaze turned towards the horizon, where the sea met the sky in an endless embrace. The call to explore, to venture into the unknown, resonated like a mantra, urging the weary traveller to set sail into the vast expanse of possibilities. The act of exploration became a pilgrimage, an outward and inward journey, where the familiar was transformed into the extraordinary.

And so, the footprints on the beach, now a distant memory, became the evidence of a life well-lived.

Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash.
— Leonard Cohen (1934-2016)

... murmured the waves as they carried away the remnants of the once-vivid scene. The footprints, now transformed into poetry, became a testament to a life filled with exploration, contemplation, and the pursuit of beauty.

In the end, as the tides rose and fell, the transient nature of the beach scene became a metaphor for the fleeting beauty of life itself. The footprints may be washed away, and the scene may fade, but the echoes of exploration, the contemplation of beauty, and the evidence of a life well-lived remained, etched in the sands of time. Each grain of sand held a story, a moment, a fragment of a journey that, despite its fleeting nature, contributed to the grand tapestry of a life lived in full.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow on the now-empty beach, the traveller stood at the water's edge, contemplating the vastness of the sea. The footprints were gone, but the journey continued. The seeker, fueled by the wisdom of time and the beauty found in contemplation, walked away from the shore, ready to explore new horizons, leaving behind a beach that, for a brief moment, had been a canvas for the poetry of life.

We shall not cease from exploration. And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time.
— T.S. Eliot (1888-1965)

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