Infinity in Pieces

I hollowed out a little place in the sand for my bottom and flopped down in my makeshift beach chair, wrapping golden arms around oiled legs. Only the strongest waves reached my toes. The warm salt water lapped gently up the white sand, foaming before gliding into the waiting gulf. A pelican dove from the cloudless sky, broke the surface of the sea and resumed its flight across the horizon, presumably with dinner in beak.

Closing my eyes, I leaned back and let a thousand years worth of disintegrated quartz support me. My fingers worked their way into the sand enjoying the rough texture and temperature change as they dug deeper. The sun bounced off the emerald water lending an iridescent glow to everything it touched, even the insides of my eyelids. Its heat soaked through my skin, into my tired muscles and finally reached my bones.

Someday that’s all that will be left of me. Bones, bleached as white as the fragments on which I lie. And in time, those too will be gone, broken down by nature into grainsized pieces. Perhaps, in another thousand years, a weary soul will stretch out upon my warmth as I’m washed ashore by an infinity of foaming salty waves.

___________________________________________________________

This was written from an Inspiration Monday prompt by Be Kind Rewrite.

40 thoughts on “Infinity in Pieces

  1. I can tell you I usually give a piece 2 to 3 sentences before I move on…something is so gripping about your usage that I must read to see what you next describe. I half way expected a murder or an orgasm to appear somewhere in this piece and yet it was brilliant in how it led me away from that mayhem to something so real I wanted it, and badly

  2. within a few hundred years, every carbon atom will have re entered the biosphere, some will be in plants and some in animals, but your atoms will live again.
    loved this post

  3. Very deep and timeless. I can feel time stop as i read it but i can also feel the ages to come after we are all gone. Very moving post good lady.

  4. as one walked with you through these thoughts
    I saw your face tilted catching the rays,

    Thank you for sharing this…
    I liked it alot!

    )0(
    ladybluerose

  5. i live about a block from the beach, so i’m always ready to read the thoughts of others about the beach. thanks for the thoughts, and the pictures of legs!

  6. Good morning to you, and Happy Monday!

    I had every intention of commenting on this piece last night; however, as I went to do so, my husband summoned me to the dinner he’d been slaving away at for over 2 hours. I thought “one more more minute” might be a tad on the ungrateful side. :)

    Anyhow . . .

    This was an incredibly vivid depiction of an ocean experience, made all the more brilliant by your writing style. I think what surprised me most was how short it was in length, but with word-choice and powerful imagery, the result was a substantially filling piece of writing.
    Most often a writer will intend to capture the general atmosphere, while not taking care to pick out the finer points. Your last paragraph was splendidly done, bringing a wholeness to the writing that accompanied the beauty quite nicely.

    Blessing,
    Cara

    • Thank you! What a lovely, well thought out commenter you are! I shall try to post more things worthy of your feedback. And did I see somewhere that you’re a fellow Diana Gabaldon fan? Love me some Jamie!

      • Thank you. :) My understanding is that commenting without thinking is much like running without an end goal; you’ll just end up doing laps, forgetting where you started and where you’re supposed to end.

        Oh, yes; “fan” would be putting things mildly. Diana — though she doesn’t know it — has forever ruined the reader’s experience for me. More importantly, I can never resolve to write poorly ever again. Those days where I used to think to myself “Oh, it’s good enough” are long, long gone.

        Mmm. Jamie.

  7. Wow. There is a touch of brilliance to this. I love how the warm beachy scene takes what some might think is a darker turn – but really isn’t. This is poetry in prose.

    Greatly enjoyed.

  8. Pingback: Inspiration Monday: synesthesia « BeKindRewrite

  9. Great piece. Description and emotion. That introspection was something anyone could relate to. Nice work. :)

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