The Land and the Ocean

I knew a land too far from the ocean. It could not feel nor care how deep the blue becomes black. Maybe it’s time the wave stops bringing every ship to shore. Like the land has always wanted, let her wind choose what hope she finds.

And when no fisher appears on the horizon, she will learn to listen to the quiet sand. To the life whispering beneath her feet, and while the sky gives her sunrise without clouds or rain again.

Through some seasons, the tides still come to water her edges, bringing sparkling light, bringing storm, bringing silence, from morning to evening. The harbor once answered, warm in the storms of shared days.

The horizon feels empty. No sails, no wave, no wind, only a distant blue. Yet the ocean remains, always hoping she will never sink in.

May the cliffs stand tall. May all the flowers bloom through every season. May the wind carry hope to every horizon. So the land will never be a wasteland.