A Jet black veil accompanied by distant blinking stars covered the ocean that night.
Thick, towering clouds blanketed the beach like sheets protecting a young boy from the vast darkness in his room. Rough pitch black waves that reflected the blackness of space writhed against each other like serpents chasing after the unknown. And in the natural world, making sense of the darkness of night, I stood on the sand, staring into the silent horizon.
The sand molded around my feet with a cold embrace while the sea breeze pulled me ever so slightly closer to the water. Yet I steered clear of the chaos at first glance. To me, the crashing waves roared like lions hiding behind a mountain of uncertainty, the chilled air pushed me into the freezing clutches of an entirely different world, and the horizon, governed by that same black veil I felt, offered a sweet apple if only I stepped into the dark drowning wake of the ocean guarding it.
Despite all of that, I stood there for what seemed like hours. I watched the roaring lions clash with the serpents, uncertain if they would ever stop. I felt the cold sea breeze continue to entice me along with the sand holding me in place with its tight grip. And I continued to stare at the horizon’s black veil evermore. Time passed by, and my legs grew tired, but my mind grew more relaxed.
My eyes, who had cautiously surveyed the ocean with suspicion, put down their spears and waited patiently, as did my body. And then, my mind expanded. I started to notice the scene’s harmony. Each integral part played with each other like an orchestra. It all began to appear beautiful, even if it was frighteningly uncertain. The roaring lions and serpents turned into opera singers and drummers, and the clouds remained soft and quiet, passing by like a flock of
doves.
I realized that the sea breeze wasn’t pushing, but pointing, trying to show me harmony. So did the sand, only holding tight enough so I would listen, so I would see. Finally, I focused back on the dark horizon. It never became lighter, at least not in my presence; however, when I closed my eyes, the black veil of the horizon felt not like a stranger but an old friend. It was as unknown as tomorrow, ten, or one hundred years from now, but the horizon offered not an apple but simply its hand to guide me into tomorrow. And that was the solace of the dark waters.
Comments