A constant dancing turquoise jewel plays a hymn for me, repeating the same calm echoes, the same inspiring movements. As the light blue meets the pastel purple and pink, the sail drifts further and further away, as though marking a turf, as if making a statement of my belonging, of its belonging . . . of my belonging, not belonging. It is the same sky that morphed for my sake into thousands of rainbows, that whispered its regrets of an awaiting end. I must go, it says, and stumble into a deep dark slumber. But, it lightens up with a touch of sadness in its million eyes, you can always return another day. The dancing gem, too, bid me a knowing farewell as it reaches a soprano, tugging with sorrow, higher, and crashing down. The soothing warmth has long ebbed from underneath my feet, so I cannot but acknowledge the sandy good-bye in this place.

A voice calls for me--a human voice. It is the same voice that broke the chords of the waves so that they never again are able to play me the same peaceful tune, a voice that mocked my belonging, that forced the sky to make time with me no longer worthily spent. This voice painted the gem maroon, unnatural, and so revoking that I can never again rest in its arms without the constant spew of atrocious memories.

When it was mildly agitating, I ran. As it was stronger, I fought. To the extreme, I found this single place to rest my fears. But even here, he follows. The pursuit has finally met an end. The weight coaxes a stop. Indeed, I can finally walk . . . a fine line of neutrality.