It was 6 A.M. and I was watching the sun mirroring its light into the sea. Legend says, the wavy bridge, born from the daylight moving along with the tides, leads the long unforsaken road to the pirate's treasure.
This sea where I drowned parts of my old self. I was loving it with hate, hating it with regret, loving it again, with pity.
Nostalgia.
I've been tailoring a cloth of waves above my eyes. A cloth of wide awake dreaming, a cloth to cover the fear of real life.
Waves, waves.
Swallowing my thousand illusions in their eternal dance. Stealing my mind away....
Long time ago, the sea carried apart from the shore one little girl's soul.
A brave young girl, thinking she was so tough, she was almost invincible. But she wasn't aware she was just a snowflake through so many others, mastering their shape only to fall on the same ground. That was her mistake.
Now, her dreams, fragile like porcelain, are long sank into the deep blue sea before my eyes.
So now, all that remained out of her searches for a new purpose, remastering the philosophy behind the snowflake's tale.
People fall, but through their descending path, they build wings to climb again.
Just like snowflakes, flying with icy wings, colliding in their chaos, until they stop falling to find silence on the ground, to find stillness, to become One.
I believe our world was born out of the sea.
We search with our sight the end of the sea, but it has none, although we do. Although at the end, only the sea awaits. Only the sea remains.
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