Pandora's Box

You think the lines in the sand are resolute, determined and there to stay. Till a gust of wind over the next dune or the next wave of surf obliterates it. You start over, but is it in the right place? How will we ever know? So many lines in our lives, separating, classifying, keeping safe our emotions, needs, desires, families, homes, friends, professions. Overlapping, parallel, blurring, shifting. With each breath that we take, with each year that goes by, each death, each birth. Never the same. Always subtle. But we need them to stay unchanging, so we can chart our way through life, knowing which ones to cross. Little better than reeds being whipped by the storm, but for all their frenzied dancing, they stay rooted, clinging on for dear life, to the familliar. As do we.
Change is the only constant. But it's also fear, grief, anger and pain. More than it is sunshine, laughter and what makes you soar like an eagle. You can't stop the lines shifting, even when you can see them. When they're blurred, you realise, too late, that there never were any lines to begin with. You just thought there were.
Like Pandora's box, there's no going back. There never is.