I’m not sure what I was looking for on that silver day, but something had drawn me out to this spot as I was passing through. Maybe it was the gravity of human experience hanging thick in the calm salty air. Many sons of men have gone to these waters in a pursuit of love, never to return again. The rusted chainlink and razorwire stand in the way of those who would follow after them, a weatherworn testament to their separation from the land of the living.
Oxygen. That tragic element that for each of us someday comes up short, is even now at work oxidizing and returning that cold cruel barrier back to the dust of the barren earth from which it was pulled.
But for now we stand waiting on this side, staring out to the light, but denied full entrance to it’s weightless blaze.