The Quiet Tide

I drift on a waterless sea, where time stretches like a thin veil, and every thought echoes softly against itself. The world presses close with its demands, its noise, its expectations, but here, in this quiet, I exist in a space untouched, unyielding, yet fragile. Memories rise like distant islands— some warm with laughter, some scarred with absence— and I carry them all as though they were currents shaping the vessel I have become. I have learned the weight of silence, the ache of unseen tides, the beauty of a breath taken simply because it can be. Alone, and yet profoundly present, I am a witness to the subtle miracles of living— to the small persistence of the heart, the stubborn grace of thought, the quiet insistence of being. I move not for arrival, not for acclaim, but because to drift, to endure, to feel every shadow and every spark, is to meet life fully— and in meeting it, to be undeniably alive.