The ocean is a flapping endless salty fabric that sounds majestically in tune with its infinite purpose to remind me that all of life could easily be enveloped and silenced in one swipe. And yet the seagull’s squawk is allowed to dart in and out of its roar like a tiny sharp needle through a tight, thick canvass that allows the needle to pass freely to heal a tear weathered by the unforgivingness of time. I am like a little amoeba clinging to the edge of an Olympic pool. I am here, but boy am I small and only but a little beep in a continuum of what the universe keeps sewing together, string by string. Like that amoeba, I have a place in this space and time to be part of this unimaginable tapestry that keeps rolling and ever changing with every nanosecond that squeezes past my inhalations of the “being here-ness” of my consciousness. So, I take a deep breath of the salty molecules in the air and let it waft through my hair that seems ever so thirsty for this sea breeze that engulfs me.
-frank malaba- (morning minute collection series)