In my periphery is an imperceptible horizon.
The breeze caresses my face. Then, silence embraces me in a piercing darkness. A feeling of uncertainty annihilates. A rendezvous of my spirit and soul begins.
Sometimes, no matter how you deceive yourself that you feel complete, because you must, you would still always end up with a seeking heart. An indeterminate nostalgia. Your world never knows if it’s a hole you left to patch up from past or a blank you left to fill in at present. It becomes an iota that obscures to connect a trace to the future.
It’s hard to mask.
It’s like the music in anonym that remains hummed because none in the universe claims to understand your song. The truth is, the truth is just within your reach. Your denial holds you back. You withhold to accept that it is. It’s a sudden struck of numbness of causes and reasons.
I am drowned in this ocean of confusion. My soul is like a fire that struggles to breathe with the strong wind. I have seen everything that means most to me, yet a piece of my heart sees my soul as a jailbird in a gold cage. To find liberty, I wish to know. The adversary is unseen, because the enemy is the one who beholds. It’s odd, but it’s odd. The most arduous challenge you beat to conquer is none other than yourself. You are the battleground. Your mind is the opponent. Your heart is the warrior.
Light and darkness entwines. Night takes over. But still my heart is not as serene as the marriage of the ocean and the wind. Abba, let me glimpse Your heaven that I may hear you speak.
The sky paved way for the influx of its countless tears. A heavy downpour sings along with my crying for bitterness and defeat.
I have gone to some infinite abyss just to discern its chasm only to realize that the broken pieces have been clamoring for my attention upon the doorstep. I have fallen in a trap.
Love is a quagmire of paradox. Worse, I have no more to fight for. The war was over.
By the sea, I sat down. I wept.
*Written for The Signature, a literary folio published in 2006.
*A prose I wrote out of my imaginary self inspired after reading Paulo Coelho’s
By the River Piedra, I Sat Down and Wept”)
Photo credit: http://egrig.com/girl-at-sea-oil-painting/