A Life

Imagine a place like Brigadoon, only this place is alive in itself.  It has soul and life, feelings and although it moves and changes, it never leaves the earth because to do that would mean its end.

In the beginning the world is its womb.  The ocean cradles it as the winds sing lullabies.  It moves, but its world moves with it and though there are storms and upheavals and growing pains galore, it develops into what it is.

And then it steps out of the realm of that womb and into the world, thinking it is finished and strong, invincible and perhaps even immortal.  Now it stands tall and proud on the edge of the earth and the oceans rage against it and the winds carve it into new and unfamiliar shapes.

It is strong and proud and will not be whittled away.  But years of constant erosion, nagging disappointments, intense dramas that spawn the life around it takes its toll.  Huge chunks of it fall off and move on to become places of their own and weariness sets in.

Until one day it moves again.  Still of the world, but away from the edge and into a place more secluded where the rains still fall and the winds still blow, but they are no longer the constant wearing and tearing of that other place, a gentler, quieter place.  A place quiet enough that it hears a familiar song and leans in to listen closely.

And for now this is where it stays.