The waves roll in, steady and unhurried, their rhythm whispering secrets I'll never understand but find comforting all the same. This place, quiet, untouched, or maybe just forgotten, feels like it exists outside of time, a sanctuary carved out just for me. Or perhaps for anyone brave enough to sit still long enough to hear it.
I wonder, briefly, if I discovered it or if it's been waiting, patient as the rocks that line the shore. I want to believe it's waiting for something, just as I am. But expectations can be tricky things, can't they? Hope is heavy when tied to the fragile threads of choice, and yet, I keep weaving them.
Here, in this silence, there's no weight but my own thoughts. I breathe them in and let the sea carry them away. I'm learning slowly that patience is its own kind of bravery. Maybe, this time, it will lead to something more. Something worth all the waiting. 3 replies
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