It's Not the Sand, It's the Shore

Miraculously, and amazingly.

He found the shore.

Not, a shore. 

THE shore.

At least, the right shore.

The shore from which.

Then, he went back to share the good news.

Back, to the sandbox, that is.

Rather crowded it was.

“There’s a beach!”

“Come out of that sandbox!”

“Let’s go!”

They were having none of it …

“We don’t want to leave our sandbox.”

“And, we don’t want to hear about some beach!”

“Stop with your trying to get us out of this sandbox!”

“Go away!”

[After too much time and too much effort — and concern — he said to himself: "I’ve wasted too much time in a deluded and misguided effort to get them to come with me."]

“I’m out of here.”

[After all, you can’t answer a question that isn’t being asked. One, most certainly, that isn’t even being entertained. Or, won’t be.]

“Alright then. I’m going to the beach.”

“With, or without you.”

“You can join me if you want.”

The rules of this game say you can't look back. 

Lot's Wife sort of thing.

IMPORTANT: When you find yourself on that beach, remember this:

DON’T TURN IT INTO YET ANOTHER SANDBOX.

From that shore, look … see!

There’s the Other shore.

We can go there too.

The boat arrives there …

Right here, right now.

And, isn’t it a kick in the pants. 

When he arrived … guess what?

They all were already there waiting for him.

It was his sandbox all along.

Anyhow, truth be told ...

It's not the sand, it's the shore.