That ocean of yours near the city. Ripping through tides, day after night, unwavering in its pursuit of unending. You used to love that ocean, the fresh air of future dreams, the cooling night of days to come, and the crashing waves of days forgotten.
That ocean of yours near the city. Bright and blue it was, mixing with the sand, clumping underneath our feet as we ran across. The palm trees swayed to the beat of the recalling of the tides : left when it retreated, right when it emerged.
That city of yours near the ocean. Concrete jungle dare I call it, full of hatred and greed. Highrise that threatened to collapse any moment, the business, the people, all so full of resentment. The ocean was much better : peace, serenity, serendipity.
That city of yours near the ocean. You get consumed by that city, absorbed in the ways of movement. Perfunctory relationships galore while you try to get your bank account as high as the sky, craning your neck to look at the top, wishing one day you were there. Is the sky any different from down here? Is the air any less fresh or crisp?
That ocean of yours near the city. Now I walk along the ocean myself, kicking up sand that was meant for two. My feet sinking into the soft sand, with no one to help me out of the predicament. I crane my neck to look at the sky, devoid of any highrise, of any metal. I crane my neck again to the right, this time I see you. In your dress on the highest floor : barking orders & delegating work.
That ocean of yours near the city. Ripping through tides, day after night, unwavering in its pursuit of unending. You used to love that ocean, the fresh air of crushed dreams, the cooling night of worse to come, and the crashing waves of days that could have been.
