Years drift in the slow
I wonder floating below
How I let these years drift by
The shallow surf
Kissing the sparkling sands
The secret I have buried with my hands
Here on the night’s shore
I wonder where this all began
Every action that bore
The weight of destiny’s plan
I wade into the whispering waves
Listening to the secrets they have to tell
Here I surrender my worries away
Let myself be carried away by the swell
I gathered a million of my closest friends around me to run blindfolded through the forest. Our goal was to make it to the other side without hitting a tree. None of us did, which is a shame because we were trying to recreate that glorious impossibility of sperm meeting egg.
“You have your facts wrong,” one of my friends said to me.
“This doesn’t realistically recreate anything,” he continued despite my glare.
He was the first one to hit a tree.
It wasn’t funny.
He ended up not being born.