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Amidst the morning mist of the swift returning
tide I set out on my daily run, my walkman on my side. Lost within
my private world apart from cares and woes I ran along the moistened
shore, the sand between my toes.
In the distance, I saw a boy, as
busy as can be. He was running, stooping, picking up, and tossing in
the sea. Just what he threw, I couldn't tell, I looked as I drew
near. It seemed to be a rock or shell - as I approached him I could
"Back you go, where you belong. Your safe now hurry
home. Your family's waiting for you little starfish, hurry on!" It
seemed the evening tide had washed the starfish on the shore, And the
swift receding water left a thousand there or more.
self-appointed savior, was trying one-by-one To toss them back into the
sea, against the racing sun. I saw his plight was hopeless, that most
of them would die. I called out from my private world, "Hey Kid, why
"Must be at least a thousand here, strewn along the
beach, And even if you had the time, most you'll never reach. You
really think it makes a difference, to waste your time this way?" And
then I paused and waited, just to hear what he would say.
stooped and took another, and looked me in the eye. "It makes a
difference to this one sir, this starfish will not die!" With that, he
tossed the little life, back where there was hope. He stooped to take
another. I could tell this was no joke.
The words that he spoke to
me cut like a surgeon's knife. Where I saw only numbers, he saw only
life. He didn't see the multitude of starfish on the sand. He only
saw the little life he held there in his hand.
He didn't stop to
argue, to prove that he was right. He just kept tossing starfish in the
sea with all his might. So I too stooped, and I picked up, and I tossed
into the sea, And I thought, just what a difference, that this boy has
made in me.