Some days the horizon seems such a long way off. If the lines of convergence meet at infinity, that's where I'll find it; that mystical and elusive junction between sky and ground. I can trudge all day and it doesn't get any closer. The same smooth line stretching from somewhere to nowhere. The tide doesn't carry it any closer, the Sun doesn't warm it to me and the black evening sky only hides it from view until the Moon rises. Clouds seem to fall over it's sharp edge, ships appear from nowhere, a dry hot wind pushes the sand from under my feet. Everyone has their horizon, every place, every sky, every sea, every piece of land on which we stand. We can look from afar and dream or we can move forward, either way this strange junction remains precisely where it has always been; just out of reach.