The traveler walked the dusty road,

from the village to the sea.

Though the ocean was in his heart,

he couldn’t help but notice the unprepared people he shuffled by.

As the route turned through the trees,

he bent to pick up sticks,

and fallen fruit,

and leaves for the wiping.

Soon his back became heavy with the burden he dared to bear,

as his focus shifted to others rather than the sea.

His feet slowed to an amble,

his vision clouded by those too broken to continue the hike,

and the ones far from the trail.

He beckoned them onward,

with an open hand and a generous disposition,

but they refused to move,

mainly because he had stopped moving too.

His heart now mimicked his back,

and it began to break.

Then, the air caught his nose,

and the salty ocean reminded him of the reason for the journey.

After a second to consider the affair,

he dropped all his supplies,

the weight around his heart,

and ran toward the Deep.