Captured Light

    I'm here. I made it. I nearly forgot to write today for the second day in a row. Writing at the end of the day is risky business. For some reason, the phrase "risky business"  makes me think of pirates on a large wooden ship traveling the open sea.  Salty wind flows around their dark, leather-ed, bearded faces as the eagle in the bird's nest uses his golden monocular to scour the horizon for precious, precious booty. There should be a squawking parrot in the picture somewhere.  Giant krakens, whales, and sea-monster sized octopuses lurk below the depths of the ever-flowing and infinite curtain that is the ocean's surface. The juncture of air and water is embedded with a shimmering, diamond-like lattice of refracted light that comes down from the heavens and bends at the crescent of every wave in the choppy sea. Turbulent travels turn to smooth sailing, and the fabric of light that is woven in each wave expands to paint an image of seemingly infinite riches. In each small wave, a diamond of light comes and goes, forever unreachable and yet, right there for the taking.


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