The ship’s sailing. Yes, it still is. But in what direction, I do not know. To what end, I’m clueless.
Sometimes the land is visible but I can’t tell if it’s a mirage or real. For that I’ll have to reach it, right? But it’s like the horizon… from far away the sky appears reachable but the nearer you go the farther it becomes until it dims into the infinite debris of human evolution: our Earth.
Then there are times when the endless blue doesn’t scare me, for the blue sea is calm, an ally rather than the enemy, and the blue sky scattered with glistening stars seems like the Lord himself smiling down at me.
But tonight… tonight the sea is wild and endless. Amidst the interminable waters, a drought envelopes me, my parched lips long for a drop of light, hope and peace; perpetual and incessant. Not the uncertain and so easily changeable illusion of tranquility and peace, but real and fulfilling happiness.
I have no idea how much longer can this ship stand the storm and I dread to think that it won’t be long. I write this journal (or whatever you may wish to call it) in the hope that one day I’ll read it and smile at how easily hope deserts us and how we can’t see the wide open door right in front of us in troubled times. And in the hope that my toils would have taken me to a better place by then.
And also because I believe that though we humans have soft hearts our souls are indestructible and that is where our true strength, our will, and determination resides. If not then maybe another troubled heart would be able to derive the faintest hope from my words, just enough to not fall over the edge.
Written by: Fizzah Aziz
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