Imagine a vast ocean of mirror-still translucent turquoise
so clear that you can see its bottom
so vast that its edges are become the horizon.
One day, from an invisible somewhere, a pebble
is dropped into the very centre of the ocean
and a single ripple forms.
All around the ocean’s edge,
people watch in awe as the simple wave
glides silently towards them.
And then, invisible to each other,
two people (or twelve people) find stones of their own
and toss them gently into the water.
Others watch as multiple ripples now expand,
intersect, creating complex and wondrous patterns
on the gentle undulating surface of the ocean.
They are besotted by the magic of movement,
of the motion they have created by their own hands
in the simple act of throwing stones.
Soon everyone has found a stone
and the surface of the water is bombarded
with the volleys of the masses.
Everyone needs to make their own mark,
to influence the pattern of the seas,
and larger stones are thrown harder, further.
And what was once a mirror-still surface
moves beyond undulation into chaos,
its turbulence so great that ripples cease to form at all.
And where once the sea was clear and turquoise blue,
it is now opaque and grey and chill,
and nothing can be seen beneath it.
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