Ground Beneath My Feet

Consciousness arrived with the weight of the air and the warmth of the pale sky. I stood motionless, evaluating the perimeter before initiating any movement. Gripping the hilt in my right hand, I gently shifted my stance. The fine grains of sand beneath my boots yielded with a soft, settling crunch. Lowering the tip of my blade by mere millimeters, I pressed it slightly into the earth, confirming the stability of the terrain. The ground held firm. Here, standing vigilant against the gentle tide, I am truly alive.