When Time is Gone Letter

Though I feel the window that has given us a peak into this most impossible and most marvelous journey is closing, our times will remain- our times will continue. Not here-nor anywhere in this cathartic land of alleviative wandering and superfluous desertion-but perhaps across the schism of shore and sea-where all most go, and all will go. We felt the rush of joy when the ocean’s spray cooled our desert plagued skin. We were captivated by the light that drew us where times renamed and to tides refrain. For coming out of the wasteland and resting on the wet sands that foretold the seas rise and fall we sat, realizing the light that drew us was a long left lighthouse once used to pierce the fog of sea. Our guide used to help wandering boats in the endless ocean make it safely home-and that it did for us. Our boat was now anchored on the faith and joy of our changed spirits forged by the journey through the land. This sojourn, now complete. Home is not what it once was for us, and none of us want to go back to the place we were before coming here-that now faded dream. We have all decided, with little words, to continue on- what lies across the sea is calling us. The light brought us to the awareness of our true home, next to each other. We will sail to the nearest place and tell those of what we experienced. All is timeless now, we have found the true place of comfort in ourselves. And now know who we are, and what we are to do. Simply retell.
For many have cleared the path with their bold steps before us, we merely followed the signposts. Many also have callously caved in, and lost themselves in the lands toils, we were among the blessed. And many have read the same words that took them to their own place, yes and many have read those very words that took them to their cathartic nests-inside themselves. The phrases not unique, nor deep upon a reader’s mind’s eye-yet somewhere it calls to a longing that shifts a person’s reality to their soul’s sigh:
Through the wind the waves crash on, marking the moments our lives describe
A call is made to flesh and bone, in silence the hope of the coming tides
A constant pursuit for truth’s define, perceptions askew we lost our own
Let awareness reign throughout these times, to let the lighthouse guide us home.
Vale, Vale
Et Recogitabo