No, the dead are not an island. They are the sea restless, encircling. The sound of shells held to our ears.
It is we who are marooned. We go about our everyday business and barely notice their presence surrounding us. Only now and then, when we feel the tug of the tide calling us, do we go down to the water, stare out across the impossible distance, and wonder: "Is there life beyond?"
4 comments:
a very chilling thought on a warm summer day...
A very imaginative piece. I love how your writing makes it so easy to grasp the imagery.
I cannot help but think Arnold Bocklin.
And probably the best explanation of the Lost finale as well.
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