Behind My Eyes

Ocean

When I was younger, I once found a small, dead, baby crab tucked away by the tide, deep into the sand.
Scared, as if it could hurt me, I prodded at it with a long twig. Not wanting it to be touched by my own hand.

I remember, not being able to find any other shell on that beach besides the one on the crab, cracked and undone.
Just smoothed out, perfectly rounded stones, by where I then took my fun.

Now, I wonder who might have seen the crab in its walking days.
When the sun beat down on it, in warm summer rays.

I can't help but think, like this crab when we die, one day there will be no one left to remember our existence, and in the end, eventually no one on earth will remember our name.
But what we get out of our short stay, will be the answer to weather or not we've won our game.

We need to accept that our ocean is too big, and see the beauty in the foam.
Put our faith in another, so that one day, we might go home.