Last of the Ascension (Verse) - 33
Reclaimed
“Let’s ride.”
The voice—
simple, immediate.
He turned—
without hesitation.
“Let’s ride.”
No echo—
only presence.
Boards stacked—
just beyond the tide.
The ocean waited—
as it always had.
He paused—
not from doubt.
From seeing.
A child—
collecting.
A mother—
calling.
Time—
not yet heavy.
Shells—
unnamed, still open.
He understood—
without needing to name it.
He moved—
not toward ascent.
Toward the water.
The sun lowered—
without asking.
The waves rose—
without promise.
He entered—
fully.
Not restored.
Not absolved.
Alive.
The End
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