waves smashed on the eastern shore, for years i can't count even in my imagination. as hard as rocks, incessant waves will wear eventually, until such rocks are worn down to sharp black sand. friday today, and the sun is up, over the mountain, shining down on our morning. backlighting spring leaves on a manitoba maple. we dream of days as beautiful, and mark time in minutes, weeks and years. the waves and rocks do not understand or know the time that passes. we can only see a certain scale, all else vanishes. one hundred million years ago, we were nothing, not even yet possible. yet here we are, possible in the present. we can look back, but not go there, at least not yet.