June is more than summer

This tide is momentous and perhaps at some point the high will match this low. As this year progresses, I learn that there is no way of knowing or holding onto water or sand, I work to flow out and disperse into the greater waters of the ocean. I fantasize about floods, their hunger for low laying lands and trailers. Floods are things of beauty which cannot be suppressed. Fire, in its consumption of all things which leaves only charcoal ash soot, shoots fear to my bones. Fire is individual, a flood is bad luck and low lands.

So this tide that carries me, I drift on it.

I lose my second job of the year, the third of my life, this is not a year for having jobs if you are me and I am, so I don't have jobs. Again, fine, and better still, because the sucking of marrow from the inside of my bones to deliver it into the waiting maws of man ends.

So catch my breath, find a minute, breath deeply, and wonder about all of this.