#77

I stare at the ocean,
sitting here on its shores.
Who gave me the world?

The sand, fine as blood,
buries my feet and my thoughts.
We are stardust after all.

I don't remember why
I decided to reemerge.
Perhaps to see the rising sun
one last time?

I ponder, I wonder,
digging my feet into my blood,
if the world that is given to me
is fair or is not.

Is ruling the world
the price of the sun?