Patterns of the Sand and the Sea

No longer a he, it wandered the world

Observing the growth of shrubs in precarious sequence
So many things narrowly avoided death
3% was a glorious dimension where anything could happen

It didn’t want to say anything
To alert them to hidden patterns and possibilities
Talking was a thing of the past
Communication too

The sand turned into miniature golden tornadoes
But that wasn’t enough
Everything persisted and became stale
It decided to take matters into its own hands
To dive into the sea
Rusting like a fucking bucket

Schools of fish ignored him
Sharks sniffed cautiously before turning skittish
And fleeing
They sensed there was something predatory about the thing
It saw death but was never granted it

But soon it would rust
And all those sad possibilities wouldn’t reach even his metal brain

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