It was late when he decided to call it a night. Thunder outside drove him mad. To him, it was like the end of the world. He decided to hide, to run away from that irritating feeling. Tucking himself in his bed was the most treasured thing he ever did. He is safe now, shielded and armed with wool covers. The heart is sheltered with peace. The clock is ticking, but sleep was away for this night. He had feelings to spill, and so, he grabbed his papers and the pen resting on them and triggered his mind for writing. Where did all the ideas go? They were buzzing all over his head. Did they hide? Did they leave? Or simply, they died? There weren’t any urge in him to dig them out, so he surrendered his papers to their prior refuge. What is wrong with him tonight? He wondered. This is emptiness in him, and he didnt have any ideas to write, so he decided to read.
She came, laid her elbows on that rusty iron fence, pinned her fingers together and sight-fully dived into the deep ocean. It was her who inspired him. It was her stillness that irritated him. Why? Why did she come every sunset? He knows why he came! For him, it was meditation, it was setting his eyes loose and traveling to where the end of the world lies. Why did she come? He decided to ask her.
Clapping his hands once, pressing his palms on his knees, he rose up and marched like a determined soldier toward that mystic fortress.
The moment he reached her, she turned her eyes to face his questioning face. To his pathetic attempt, she imprisoned a silent scream in her eyes that were flooding with tides of tears. Then, she lifted her pain with the movement of her perishing smile and spoke with a trembling voice:
“To the deepest of this ocean, I set my secret for sail. To the eyes of this world, I keep my pain unnoticed. To this ocean of secrets, I reveal my wounds and share the burden of hearts, the hearts that are broken with losses.”