Malibu

Here, on this ordinary day, I stand at the precipice of all things. The wintersun gentle, as though twilight, soft filtered through the ocean spray and a canopy of Los Angeles smog. We make our claim to this place, you and I. Our mark is obvious, always expressed, digested in nature's entropy, and renewed again - as our true nature.

Here on this ordinary day, I stand as the precipice of all things. My prescient blood keeps me warm with memories of your smell, and impressions of what you might be (doing) right now. We make our claims on eachother, you and I. Our mark is obvious, each breath shared, even at distance, across the entire world - true nature.

Here on this ordinary day, we stand as the precipice of all things. My sentient belly preempts our unborn, and I already love them. Just like you, I nurture life within. Held in the embrace of this motherly coast, my being is provoked by fatherly urges to steal another independence in this formless, ever renewing, pregnant moment. This divine family claims us all. It is our mark. The mark of our true nature.

I stand here, on other side of this ocean's shore and see, in us all, Blake's eternity. Our eternity. In every finitude. Fleeting. I must respond. Compelled. I walk across these sands and, at the precipice of all things, I raise my hands in praise, make dedications to each of us, and all, and then, I dive.

- Malibu, 07/01/2012