from as far as your eyes can wander, it is only the fog that greets you a veil soft and silver, hiding the breath of the ocean beneath it. beyond that mist, perhaps, lies the mystery the sea holds in her depth stories whispered to no one, dreams drowned in salt and song.
you can feel the chill in the air, how it brushes against your skin like memory, and beneath it, the gentle warmth of water it kisses your feet with a ticklish touch.
we always wonder what it would feel like to walk that sacred line where sand meets sea, where shells find their home, and humans their peace a peace they search for endlessly behind walls of brick and noise.
I look up. the sky deepens, its blue thickening into something near black, as if it too searches for answers to questions i cannot name. and when my worn out eyes, tired of seeking meaning in the stars, dare to rise once more something shifts. like the ocean exhales a secret.
and then comes the sound not chaos, not storm, but the delicate rush of waves a song so quiet, it feels like the first time peace ever decided to sing. with each note seeping through my skin, and every cell surrenders shoulders, once fighting the ache, fall with the ease of forgiveness. toes finally spread into the sand, curling and uncurling like petals that finally remember how to bloom.
i feel safe the way birds must feel when the wind remembers their name, the way an unborn child rests in the hush of a heartbeat. i feel the ocean calling me, each wave with a hand outstretched, giving a wordless welcome.
the warmth persists and my body begins to recognize love the kind that exists beyond sight, beyond reason. infinite love poured wave after wave, never forgetting a single grain of sand, just as a mother would never let go of even one small finger of her trembling child. and in that rhythm, i see it the sky and sea, mirroring each other’s longing, never touching, yet always entwined.
perhaps that’s what truth is not the meeting, but the reflection. so i give my eyes a break upon this gentle view of calmness, and i listen to the peace beneath the chaos.
maybe this is the universe speaking, reminding us in the language of waves life returns, again and again, to the shore of itself. each tide, a promise. even the sand and each tiny grain hopes to be carried once more, to travel, to be part of the motion.
and maybe we, too, are nothing but those grains fragile, wandering, softened by time, with each tide. maybe living is just this to let ourselves be carried, to trust the pull and release, to keep dancing with the waves that shape us, to keep hoping, again and again, that the next tide will bring us home.