By Ben Skaar
Footprints in the sand, whisked away by the wind. Ephemeral.
I tumble down the dune, to the bottom of the pit. Into the weeds. My ankle snaps.
Life has struck me down, the grains of sand shift below me, begging me to stay.
Above me the cosmos glimmers. It cries louder than the sands beneath.
Beauty can still be found at the bottom.
Get back up and continue to the horizon to get a better view.
End chapter two.