With impending sleep, we lay our beds on the seeming stability that is the land.
Solid. Dry. Stable.
The familiarity of the campsite.
The security of the fire.
The comfort of the sleep.
Anchored, we chase the wave, the impermanent thought of a faraway moon.
Taming it long enough to believe we are in control,
all the while wishing to join it in its mysterious evasiveness.
When we’re done with the power of the universe casting ripples on our ocean,
We return to what we know:
The familiarity of sleep.
The security of the campsite.
The comfort of the fire.
For more thoughts on impermanence, check our post Impermanence and the Beach.