I've heard it said that all living things are meant to fulfill the measure of their creation. I've been thoroughly enjoying the Purple Sails that have been washing up along the shore. Today I came across what at first liked like dried up rose petals strewn along the beach. I thought perhaps there had been a wedding. I quickly realized, however, that they were dried up Purple Sails. Last year they were all clear. This year they have a maroon tint to them.

I pondered on the waste of life, realizing once again, that they have no choice. They work together to create a symbiotic relationship and creature but cannot control where they go. They literally go where they wind blows them. Then I thought of someone I know and how they have chosen to allow an illness to be the wind and let it blow them where it will. They aren't going to fight, or care, or even try. That surely is a wasted life.