Beltane Early Growth Moon
I have stood on the shore of time itself, looking out on the broad sea that laps upon its sand, the vast space ocean, touching all, then circling back, once more to the beach where time rests, gay umbrellas stuck here and there, the men and women in bathing suits, swim suits, bikinis, nothing at all. No children, just the adults of this one tribe, homo sapiens, from this one lonely outpost, away there in a long arm of the Milky Way Galaxy, nothing special as things universal and cosmic go, just conglobulated star dust.
They watch, as I do, the darkness and the many lights, those stars, those other suns, in other galaxies and those we can see only a tiny, tiny fraction of the whole though we strain these eyes of ours, a gift from the home planet and its billions of years of effort to create one who could see it back.
We watch, the ape that walks and talks, thinks, sees, laughs and cries. The arms and the legs and the mind and the heart of this universe, allowed here on the beach so we can act out our purpose, seeing the rest, looking for all this, back at all this, born of star dust and doomed or fated or blessed to return.
I have stood on the shore of time itself. And so have you.
