Frustrating Disgruntlements

In the spring of discontent, she departed, the Goddess, on the dawn of the strange tide. The waters came in at ungodly hours, rising, rising, rising, under the milky skies, to unheard-of heights. The sands tasted water again. Their parched throats lapped up the salty mixture. The creatures scurried away, in fear of an aquatic burial. One that I was going to experience.


And yet She walked away, oblivious to the anguish She would dispense. The waves wiped away Her delicate footprints, creeping further towards me, taunting me. The barley dripped, intoxicating me. She walked on, further and further, till She was a silhouette against the morning sun, determined to address the demons in Her head. Demons, of which I was one. She bore a rock on her hand, a shiny rock that glistened in the sun. A rock I gave her. But She still walked.


The waves edged towards me, covering me, slowly, slowly. I would not swim again, after that day. I would not swim, no, not ever agin.


I was buried, but She was not bothered. She walked away from my grave.