The little boy tickled the soft sand underneath the water with his toes. They fluttered like butterflies, kicking up the sand that turned into dark colors, only to disassemble itself and sparkle the water once again after settling back into the underwater earth. He watched the shore change around his feet and he smiled.
"But when will you return, if you don't believe in dark days?" asked the eyeball.
The little boy looked up.
"I said I do believe in last days, said the boy softly. "But everyone believes in dark days."
"Even you?" asked the man in the top hat, somewhat astonished.
"I know them to exist, but I don't really partake," the little boy said with a giggle that broke his dimples.
"You're too much," said the eyeball, maybe just to himself, appearing nostalgic for a moment that was currently happening.
The eyeball remained on the shore, close to the water, but his blue legs dry. The man in the top hat stood on the wet sand, partially in the initial inch of ocean with one leg and another resting firmly on the shore. The little boy was still standing in the water.
In between the three was a vessel. Some of it looked like a rowboat and some of it looked like an upside down umbrella. Maybe how it appeared depended on where one was standing. Even the most stationary things are largely interpretation and perspective.
"And you're going to sail in that?" asked the eyeball, unimpressed though curious, giving away no hints to what he saw bobbing in the shallow water.
"Will you make it?" asked the man in the top hat, also hiding what he believed was in front of him.
"You always make it until you don't," said the little boy with a beam.
The eyeball rolled himself.
"Come on," laughed the eyeball finally.
"You don't believe that?" asked the little boy, a meandering song found in his voice.
"No," replied the eyeball assuredly, "I say you don't make it until you do."
"Ah," said the little boy, nodding, as if expecting this, and said, "Maybe that's why interpretation and perspective are so important. The world is a think tank."
"What would you know about the world?" asked the eyeball, somewhat haughtily.
"I know enough to know that I know very little," said the boy, his chin up, now turning to the man in the top hat. "And what is your mantra?"
"Well, I think we'd all like to make it," said the man in the top hat, unsure of his own answer.
"Then, perhaps it is confidence that should be the traveler's companion and not prayer," said the little boy.
"Wait, wait, wait," said the eyeball, closing himself and waving his blue arms, "let me get this straight...you don't believe in prayer?"
"Do you?" asked the little boy, his eyebrows swaying like the trees behind the eyeball.
"No, of course not, but I'm not supposed to," said the eyeball. "But shouldn't you believe in the power of prayer?"
"I know only what I can see, but I believe in many things I can't see," said the little boy. "Knowing and believing are two stars near the same moon."
"It's a riddle!" said the man in the top hat excitedly.
"It's not a riddle," said the eyeball definitely.
There swung a low silence.
"Most mantras are riddles," said the little boy with a grand smile.
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