Terminal Resort

As the golden glow greets a glistening horizon, I, too, find myself reflecting.

I'm a man of many achievements. I've loved, I've lost, I've woed, I've won; yet no matter how many times I pump my fist to the air, the sun will set all the same.

I watch the gulls circling like vultures over the water, gazing at marine life below.

A dolphin's intelligence is known, but never once do you see it wistfully gaze at the sky, contemplating the great beyond. Their place is purely nautical, with no such yearning for philosophy.

Perhaps... perhaps it's the dolphins that are at an understanding, not us. We spend the whole book contemplating the chapters, but stories are told word by word.

The sun is kissing the horizon, bulging into a fiery red.

Everything around me is tinting purple in the dusk. A chill floods the ground, but land elsewhere bathes in warmth.

Time and time again, empires rise and fall under the reign of mayflies.

How many wars have been fought for this land we sit on? How many selfish schemes and projects of passion have dented our soiled crust?

The beehives tell another story, spanning 27 million years. A bee is mortal, but honey is forever. They hum a song of peaceful co-operation; a mere fantasy to the likes of us.

And that's just it- the answers lay all around us. I squint into the horizon, as men younger than I sail beyond it to claim more than they have. What is invasion, but dissatisfaction magnified?

My queries can wait. It's dusk now, and I grow weary. Someone will find the answer when the morrow rises. On that day, things will be just a little more organised.

Adjusting the rosemary in my blazar pocket, I lean back, meshing my fingers to rest on my chest.

A wordless smile on my lips, my wrinkled eyes close.

Tonight, I rest.