true tape ponyghost

somewhere at the edges of our world , a dark, dark sea races against a sunburnt stretch of shoreline, and the loneliest pony walks an unhurried pace towards lands farther south. the rhythm of his gait is in exact measure to the calling of the ocean tide. a sparrow perches on his back. the bird sees time all at once and acts as friendly guide. somewhere nearby sits a driftwood shack pieced together with bones from strange sea creatures and detritus. though pony and bird seek not this place, it calls to them, quietly, and patiently awaits the promise of their coming.