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Newborn Wave

The days go by, millions are born and millions die. As for those who have been thrown into reality, here on planet Earth or on any spot in the universe, they shall recieve their life with open arms and live, no matter how insignificant or short their existance is. As for those who die, leaving a trace in your species' history is what matters. And when you die, make sure you get things fixed.

The waves crash in the sand, sending its many particles flying in neverending circles. The wave roars, with a scream that would scare the deepest corridors of your soul. Then, it halts and dies. Silent. The wave retreats and lets another one go by.

Perishable
Man has gone far. He has built cars that can take him to long distances fast. He has designed boats to go across infinite oceans. He has flown jets to scratch the sky. He has swimmed in vacumm in orbit. He has even seen foreign horizons. But he is still weak, perishable, vulnerable to become fragmented and torn apart. His mind may be throwing an axe at his neck constantly, but his body will be beaten by rust from lords Time and Event. A man can be made of steel, but can still be erased as sand in the wind. Are you scared? You need not be frightened, as there are many among you that will help you out. Desperate? You still live on mother planet Earth, hug a tree. Once in a time, turn off all your electic appliances (except the fridge and/or alarm system).

My girl
Holding the steel bar, I dance around the path. The ocean behind embraces me with its salty hands, showering my eyes with light from blue skies. The trees in the distance stand still, moving as if happy with the breeze. They grab the ground firmly, making sure their life continues in the place where they were born, holding for dear life the warm Earth revolving around a mighty star. Here I am, my present is sand. What is behind that hill?The first walk on the sandy beaches where water sleeps

Blue
The little child grasped his father's shoulder tightly, with his face looking straight to the sky, between the metal, glass and plastic on the way. His eyes were fixed to the wide blue yonder over him, the celestial roof. His eyes, humid, the mirror of the world, were wide open, letting his young mind and body become connected to the new life. As if in horror, as if in curiousity, as if in wonder, the toddler observed the inorganic materials passing by a blue field, like strips of paint over a blue canvas falling to the ground and splashing on your clothes. What was he thinking about at that moment? Life, flicker before me. The sky, resembled in his blue eyes, traced a route where the leaves would dearly fall on, where strings would swirl around and vibrate in happiness, where water would kiss his red lips; a track where he would walk, run, dash and jog towards the finish line, where he would make the final orchestration of his existance.