Silence at the Sea
Fragile bubbles pop, pop, crumble at the surface of the sea. They race to the top, alone, intertwined, rushing like people do, in some sort of a great hurry.
Take your time, the ocean drawls, ambling along. She isn’t going anywhere. I slow, slow every breath of my body, and surrender to the rolling waves. Up and down. Up and down.
There is nothing beneath but infinite sea, infinite me. There is nothing above but streamers of violet and crimson, remnant of the sun’s farewell party, and then it is pitch black.
Silence slips in through the cracks of the tide and catches me by surprise, overwhelming me, a shot of drink in the thirst. Oh, how refreshing Silence is! How lovely the notes of nada!
I lay motionless, mesmerized. A thrill shivers through me and I am drunk, intoxicated by the sweet joy of Nothingness.
The melody plays, an old, familiar friend. Thank you, I whisper. Thank you for coming back. And I realize, once again, that the universe is watching over me. Always.
The crowd dwindles to a few and fewer until there is nobody left but me and Silence and the stars and the sea.
I am free.