A long time ago, supposedly. Crawling out of the water, or diving back in, or being in both, like the prehistoric alligator, the turtle, the hippo. The sea lion, the otter, the snakes, frogs. Tadpoles only survive in the womb of water. Then eventually, lily pads.
A grain of sand. Then a hundred, then a thousand, a million, a billion. All displayed on the beach.
Further away, in the forest. Two species, finding love. Matching up, waiting years to find each other, themselves, then each other. And too often, all the effort to get there, can get taken away and diminished, by many factors. But then, the invention of speech, pitch, body language. Advanced communication will decipher and interpret what really needs to happen. Because if only one person is guiding the ship, then Titanic, icebergs as dead as silence. Frosting over, biting. Tearing the ship a part. Still, remains on the bottom of the ocean floor. Never to be seen or found again. Lost.
It’s a worthy cause to accept the notion and principles of what keeps things afloat. What is it of a man to leave a woman? Or a woman to leave a man? Are we really not adaptable? Will time not create a better fit, even within a couple, over an elapsed period of time? Or must we up and leave when we see something that catches our eye?
I guess we all know that the mountains eventually crumble. Are we losing land and gaining ocean? Or gaining land and losing ocean?
Well, the crocodiles, the turtles, the hippo, the otters, the sea lions, the snakes; they seemed to get something right. Watery love, craves land. But the land eventually falls back to the lonely ocean.
Men, be mountains. Show the women it’s okay up here. And women, be the ocean. That’s where we come from, inside the water’s womb.