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The wind’s whispered breath stirs the air, a restless companion to the thoughts swirling within. Thick fog envelops me, dampening the space between breath and being—a veil both outside and inside. Searching for solid ground, I find only shifting sands, elusive as the clarity I seek. I move forward without compass or map, yearning for a sign, a beacon in the formless. Who am I in this blurred expanse? Am I wandering true or lost to the currents?
Lowering to my knees, I still the restless mind, craving a silence that might speak. The ocean’s ceaseless rhythm offers a fragile solace—a reminder of patterns beyond chaos. Alone, I wrestle with the intangible, chasing an idea of God, self, meaning—a vision conjured by desire for transcendence and purpose.
Then, a gentle urging: look up. Moonlight fractures the fog, a lighthouse beam cast upon the restless sea. In that fragile illumination, a promise—the way need not be revealed at every step. As long as I move toward this light, I am not lost. This light, unwavering, is enough.
