Quietly quiet.
Alone.
Never.
Alone.
Not quite.
He stands.
With nothing.
But a rod in his hands.
With nothing.
But a sea at his feet.
With nothing.
But an island behind him.
With nothing but his thoughts.
Deep and purposeful.
Shallow and directionless.
As they may be.
At his feet.
A vibrant ecosystem.
At his back.
The might of nature.
He is not alone.
Never.
Neither am I.
Or you.
I am Timi