I open my eyes and look outside my window,
And see the ocean staring back at me…
We have silent chats,
I with my eyes, and she with her tides…
The rising waves of the ocean,
Have many stories to tell.
They have traveled far,
Witnessed wars, washed away plagues,
Eaten the sky and coughed out rage.
They have known the pain,
Of breaking into droplets, streams and rivers,
And drifting apart,
And also known the cycles of
Death on a parched land,
Swallowed whole by the earth ,
And rebirth as the first drizzle,
On the thirsty land.
They have harnessed both joys and sorrows,
And ridden down human flesh as,
Tears, sweat and peals of laughter.
They have brought peace to the human body,
Both at birth and death,
Sprinkled generously on humanity’s best.
They have kissed the earth and all
It’s lush beings at dawn
They have healed the earth,
And been the reason for that farmer’s song.
I look outside my window,
And now I don’t see the ocean,
I see the waves, the tides,
The dewdrops, the hunger, the solitary eyes,
The twinkle in the farmer’s joyous eyes.
I hear the sounds of silent prayers,
Of mourning, of joys,
Of hope, of life.
I now feel the ocean in me…
I’m just a tiny spec searching for “the ocean in me”.