So much life here, at the edge of the sea.
I despise each footfall; the crunch of tiny things.
Each footfall, destruction.
And the wild sky shifts above.
Ever moving, floating white and blue.
And the slipping sea feeds the life clinging to its edge.
Tiny life, tinier than me.
Meeting death beneath my boots.
And yet I, too, am just a speck.
Lost, beneath the footfalls of a thousand ghosts.