The Tides of Time

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
Our paths...

Submitted: May 12, 2014

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Submitted: May 12, 2014



It was an odd path; sometimes it was clearly visible, other times it was shrouded in uncertainty and despair. Occasionally it was straight, but other times it would take sudden turns or even loop around itself. It might require ascension at unbelievable angles, it might be trodden with tears and blood or it might be bordered by unspeakable beauty.

But regardless of its nature, it was inherent knowledge that never should they stray from their own path- the path they were born into following.

The day would come, they realized, when the road they traveled would split. They knew it would come; it was an ever-burning thought in the back of their minds.

So it was that when the two came to the fork in the road, they stopped walking. A long stretch of trail behind them had been dealt with easily for of the other’s company, for of their warmth and their presence.

Ahead lay the thought of emptiness and forlornness. But the tides were pushing them onward, and anon they’d be far too strong to resist.

With their hands pressed together and their fingers intertwined, they stood against the undulations for as long they could.

The day had come, they realized, that the road they traveled together had split. They had known it would come eventually, but now it was here and soon the other part of their very soul would be but an ever-burning thought in the back of their minds. Soon there would be an irreplaceable hole in their heart- a burden that they would forever hence carry without reprieve.

Then the tides broke their desperate hold, and they were gone from each other.

The road here, without the other, was fogged and difficult to see. There were impossible obstacles; there were rivers of lament and storms of anger wrought with destitution. It seemed inevitable that they might stop, the path was no longer worth travelling- all they had to do was stop moving and let the tide smother them.

Yet somehow, they endured. Such is the tragedy of the human condition; to inexorably, unfailingly, and repeatedly bear the pain of living in hopes of a better day that will never come.

But a better day did come- one dawn found the skies clear, the road clean, and the winds calm. The tide was slow and pleasant and they realized that somewhere along the way, the pain of parting faded.

Thus it was that they walked with dispassionate time, hand in hand, happily so.

Their days passed easily now, though not so enjoyable as before. Their days passed quickly, but never again with another.

And through it all, they never forgot the day they came across the fork in the road. Through it all, they never forgot the simple warmth of the other’s hand.

Through it all, they never forgot how hard they fought against the indomitable.

Tides of Time

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