Stones bathed in the Tides Of Time we all are
So is everything around us
We often find outselves wondering
Encouraging eachother in trying to make sense of things
Sometimes enjoying the swashs we are given
Sometimes mourning the swashs we are given
Life as we know it can disappear at any moment - mortals, gods, creatures, things, even cities are not immune (Shallam, my love remembers, Miramar, my love remembers, Deeva, my love remembers, and more)
I often wonder whether the grand Tides Of Time are aware how much our little lives mean to us?
How much we, the little stones swashed around, try to belong?






Penned by my hand on the 24th of Glacian, in the year 916 AF.