The Time Line's End

My life's landmarks flutter in the wind, proudly and shamelessly broadcasting all that I have been. My unofficial time line is a link through my past and is monofilament in structure. Can you see the hook in my gills? I bend the rod and spin the reel, but there is no resistance from the shore. As a result, the line lengthens through the currents stretching for the opposite coast. There the swim will end. There the beached amphibian will break its line and use its legs. But the lure will stay lodged inside my throat, glinting through the dusty breeze. Grasp the broken time line and follow my footsteps, tracking my progress. They will lead to a shovel and an unfilled grave. The headstone will read "The Time Line's End." Firmly tie the broken line to the headstone's body. Then fill the hole and burn the shovel.