The ocean falls over the earth’s crust, wrapping itself infinitely around its jagged edges, undersea mountains, taking away its rough edges. Every wave and every ripple is merely a faint line in the earth’s aquamarine shield, running through the palm lines and heart lines of the earth’s weathered skin.
These are hands that have held tsunamis and typhoons in their grasps and cradled many a broken body past its last breath. But this is also a womb that has birthed millions and continues to breathe life into many. I fear the day the fluid leather embracing us turns away, finally leaving a once beautiful relationship that has since turned abusive. One too many scars and perhaps the ocean may never heal from our grasp.
If you were an ocean, perhaps I am a single grain of sand that lies on your ocean bed, content to occasionally be swept up with your waves, allowed for those few seconds to see the world as you see it, only to be dropped carelessly. I wish I were your ocean, holding you through the tides and winds, embracing your flaws with my silent waves, burying your edges beneath kilometres of myself.
Alas, I am merely a grain of sand that flows in your waters, unassuming and forgotten.