By Ahmed Latif
The water was black and smashing against the rocks with ancient anger. The stars had no reflection on the surface of this titanic ocean. The sea was like an abyss. An abyss where you stand still and are enveloped by the darkness, but you are at home in the darkness. This muted silence caresses your tormented soul. It is a respite from the troubles of your world. The same troubles that now will come for you at the speed of light.
But on these shores you don’t need light. Darkness may be a symptom of a madness yet to bloom, but it also brings a frigid and maddening peace. And in this peace you construct a prison. You build your own glass cage and you rail against its boundaries. You smash into them and wail maniacally. You are as weak as you allow yourself to be. You are as strong as you will never know. Welcome to your easy and serene home on tempered shores.
You close your eyes, not because you’re afraid of the world but because you hope that when you open them again, the world will stop weeping. I hear your troubles. They slither the same way silence trickles down until it swallows all the sounds we long to hear. All you hear now are the waters of a cold ocean. These shores are a sanctuary coloured by darkness and a frigid peace, wetted by the contented chaos of the crashing waves.