This is not your Sea

 He had journeyed far to meet the ocean,

Yet, it seemed the ocean had no desire to meet him.
Exhausted, he sat on the shore,
But the waves refused to touch him,
Pushing him gently back, as if sending him away.

Still, the salty breeze that swept over him
Whispered a quiet comfort:

"This is a polluted sea"
Your ocean—the one meant for you—
Awaits you with open arms.

Journey further.

These travels may break you,
May shatter you into pieces…

But on the day you meet your ocean,
These journeys will have transformed you
Into the treasured and precious of the sea maiden.

She, too, waits with yearning,
To gather your broken pieces,
Piece by piece,
She will mend your shattered soul,
Pasting you together, whole again,

Please remember, She waits to hold you close to her heart for eternity,
When, at last, you reach her through all these storms

They will come

I do not know where they come from,
However, angels (those good souls) keep arriving in our life

Come, let's commence the journey, let's soar,
Let's fall, wings shattered, to the earth below,
And rest in the cradle of death's embrace.

Yet, in every moment,
Some angel wraps you in warmth,
Holds you close,
And offers you solace.
This is not the final drop of hope
It is an ocean of faith.

Because, Each time, these angels bring us that boundless belief.

Come, let's go...
The path ahead may stretch far,
The weight we carry may feel immense,
But it matters not.

Come, let's go—
Because, they will come.
The angels will come...

Fail again and again

 "Be the Dry Tree"

Once a vibrant tree becomes bare twigs, yet it is more blessed than the green ones. Why? Because after enduring relentless droughts, eventually, your destination will come to you as a deluge of rain and breeze…

         

Amidst it all, you will feel the gentle touch of drizzles

They will whisper a message into your ears:

“You’ve desiccated in the summer heat...
You’ve parched in the scorching sun...
Yet, please don’t just fade away in this chaos...
Because insects have laid their eggs in the crevices of your arid branches…
Many birds and butterflies are waiting for your revival.
Don’t let go of yourself...

The sun doesn’t only bring heat; learn to endure its coronal ejections.
That will prepare you…
There is no eternal summer—spring will come.
It will welcome you with a zephyr…
And with torrential rain,
You will feel as though the whole universe is hugging you close…

That sweet feeling is something green trees can never experience.
Do you know why the rain pours with such great ardor?
It is to quench the thirst of shriveled trees like you…
To feel that love, be the dry tree…

In the crevices of your twigs, the eggs will hatch into tiny little insects…
When those baby insects open their eyes,
They’ll speak their first words to you:
Your revival, my revival...

Butterflies will kiss your flowers…
Birds will rest on your shoulders…
All these things, green trees will never savor.
Like dry trees, green trees never experience love…

So, stay as the dry tree.
Wait to be embraced, greeted, hugged, and kissed by the rain, the breeze, the insects, and the birds…
They are all waiting for you.
For You and For Them, stay as the dry tree…

 

Stay in life as you are.

No one will feel success like you. 

Your victory is not just your victory…”