I never feel so humble,
or so human,
as when I toss my message-in-a-bottle
into the vast sea of words that is the Internet.
It must be something basic, human,
this need to scribble,
like long ago humans leaving messages on cave walls.
It binds me to past and future,
these thoughts I scribble and add to the volume,
like a voice to a choir,
like a glass of water to the sea,
merging into something bigger than my own small self.
I scribbled on this Sunday but lost my Internet to rain until Monday. You can visit other Sunday Scribblers here.