27 views
Seashells and the Sea
Burrowing through the golden sand, the seashells grasp onto grains as the waves whirl. Silver spume splashes and pulls at them, and the billows beckon toward dark depths.
The seashells must latch onto the land, desperate not to lose themselves to despair. They bury themselves in a blanket of calm, but no sooner than they do so, the tides roll and tug at them again.
Hang on, little seashells, don't you let go.
The waves laugh in bubbles as they rip apart the sandy coven of comfort the seashells had so exhaustingly built. They splatter the earth within seconds, an unstoppable force of nature battling pitiful vermin.
They rumble and roar as they churn some of the tired seashells, too exhausted to blanket themselves in façades of safety. What the ocean cradles deep within its heart... no living seashell knows. And they won't find out. They'll be torn and tattered by the time they submerge in the coral reefs.
Little seashells, don't you let go.
The seashells mock their fallen comrades, in their silly squeaky voices. "Oh, how weak, how cowardly! Couldn't even fight the great mighty sea!"
But deep down, as the seashells seep into the soil, they know...
The same fate awaits them.
And one of the seashells wonders, "What is the point of struggle if we shall be swallowed whole someday? Why must we fight, why must we fear?"
Crawling and creeping in the sand, only to be hauled out, only to crawl and creep again like Sisyphus and his eternal punishment.
Don't you let go.
Death is not the punishment, life is. The struggle hurts a thousand times more than being plunged into the ocean's cruel embrace. Thus, the seashell, once so determined to survive, muses, "Wouldn't it be wonderful to rest for a while?"
It doesn't bury itself in sand like the rest.
It doesn't struggle as the swirling water stifles it.
No, it is not weak for letting go of life itself.
No, it is not a coward for challenging the primal fear of death.
No, it is brave, it is strong, and in death, the seashell will find peace.
Let go.
.
.
.
Life is merciless.
Life is painful.
Life is tiring.
.
.
.
Let go, little seashells, don't you hang on.
© Hyde
The seashells must latch onto the land, desperate not to lose themselves to despair. They bury themselves in a blanket of calm, but no sooner than they do so, the tides roll and tug at them again.
Hang on, little seashells, don't you let go.
The waves laugh in bubbles as they rip apart the sandy coven of comfort the seashells had so exhaustingly built. They splatter the earth within seconds, an unstoppable force of nature battling pitiful vermin.
They rumble and roar as they churn some of the tired seashells, too exhausted to blanket themselves in façades of safety. What the ocean cradles deep within its heart... no living seashell knows. And they won't find out. They'll be torn and tattered by the time they submerge in the coral reefs.
Little seashells, don't you let go.
The seashells mock their fallen comrades, in their silly squeaky voices. "Oh, how weak, how cowardly! Couldn't even fight the great mighty sea!"
But deep down, as the seashells seep into the soil, they know...
The same fate awaits them.
And one of the seashells wonders, "What is the point of struggle if we shall be swallowed whole someday? Why must we fight, why must we fear?"
Crawling and creeping in the sand, only to be hauled out, only to crawl and creep again like Sisyphus and his eternal punishment.
Don't you let go.
Death is not the punishment, life is. The struggle hurts a thousand times more than being plunged into the ocean's cruel embrace. Thus, the seashell, once so determined to survive, muses, "Wouldn't it be wonderful to rest for a while?"
It doesn't bury itself in sand like the rest.
It doesn't struggle as the swirling water stifles it.
No, it is not weak for letting go of life itself.
No, it is not a coward for challenging the primal fear of death.
No, it is brave, it is strong, and in death, the seashell will find peace.
Let go.
.
.
.
Life is merciless.
Life is painful.
Life is tiring.
.
.
.
Let go, little seashells, don't you hang on.
© Hyde
