I stood on the seashore listening to the crashing waves. My tidal brothers and sisters called to me from deep below, that I should come join them. Their voices have drawn many before me, and I know I am not the last. I stood by the sea and yearned, hold my arms out wide and whispered for Her to take me.

In what moment do we cease to exist? Is it when we stop fighting and fall into the fold? Is it when we surrender to becoming what others expect of us? Is that a death? Should we mourn its passing?

I seek not to escape, or die or disappear, but rather, I only seek to wanderer. Perhaps that is why I do not enter the ocean now, her womb welcomes but I am still restless.

My soul breathes the winding roads and desolate landscapes. Worn down shoes mark my passage, a scallop shell marks me as a pilgrim. I journey to where the roads meet the sea and passes right though it. I shall cross there and continue on.