• Say a prayer over a fistful of salt and cast it to the northern winds; hopefully it will reach your intended. He faces the ocean realizing how small he truly is, how insignificant these grains of false security feel, like stepping upon waves of sand. The mountains could be scooped up like pillars of emptiness, and still nobody would care of his thoughts, how desperately he tried to salvage these self progressive memories. Lain in the gravel of a million soundless hopes, he delves and drifts like those separated wages of salt, and offerings to the higher winds, they carry his wisps of intention regardless of either good or bad. The faces in a sea of eternity, washing over him like quick drowning children. Hold your breath and count to ten again, soon your lungs will give out... Was this prayer all for naught? I speak of love yes; I speak of the many dreams and nightmares that plague my thoughts, but again I ask was it all for naught? I question my questions, leaving me only with more answers to find. Cycling into a feud of inner bondage, shut your mouth and hold your breath again; soon it will all pass away. Schismatic like the parched essence of my ways. It leads back to the water... Rebirth and death all into one molecule of understanding, being cleansed of the many sins and ascension into dissension from the truth. I speak of my intended, I listen for a question; It stifles the need for an answer here in this twisted separation. Say a prayer over a fistful of salt... And cast it to the ground where it belongs... Your wish will never reach your intended. Let it lie like the many bodies do, as they decay beneath this false security, beneath this glass strewn lie. Let it lie like the voices of quick drowning children, gasping for non-existent air. Just count to ten again, soon it will all be over. He spoke to his soul with trepidation as he drowned it all away, killing what he knew needed to pass over. Rebirth begins with death, It was only fair that it was he who killed himself in that water, in that molecule of understanding... Just let it lie like the wages of cast salt. Into the many streams of thought and trembling fear, it is a place where all of us must go to find the truth. He stared at the ocean and realized how small he truly was, how the mountains could be moved and nobody would mind his thoughts, but at this he just smiled... And he walked away, to ponder on such things were a waste of unspent air, he let it lie like that prayer in that fistful of salt... He had faith instead of doubt. He saw the importance of many grains of tiny sand; Still they are tread upon by the feet of many people... But they carry us onward, to our next step, Regardless of how small and insignificant we feel, there is still a purpose... Why is it so that we shouldn't feel just as important?