His name literally translate to ocean.
That ocean where I have seen dreams, dying and changing shades, from black to white from day to night. Yes I love mountains too.. the depth and openness of it.. and the ascending and descending of delights. But ocean my goodness, the melodies of secure Death, the poetry in its abstract forms writing stories after stories shaping it like shaper.
And I, I had lost my realm a long time ago.
As I was saying, his name literally translate to ocean and the mirage or reality who knows what it is he has like the ocean, killing me. Or almost did. And the stories or the path he has drawn for me. Of endless as I am and endless as he is, our contradicting similarities. Who cares what is a lie and what is truth. I would like to believe he has successfully killed his point of view for a new one I hope. And I have tried to stay awake in his wake but as day ends and I have died too a long time ago, it doesn’t hurt much. It doesn’t scare me enough to live. I will be something else too walking away from the deepness of it as I can’t swim. Or maybe I can forgotten in remembrance. But why should I? There is a fish waiting outside. A tiny fishy out of his ocean learned to fly. Water may wait as I said, endless it is. In high tides and low. In my realm the ever-changing one I must go back. I have traveled endlesses I have seen shades. Now it’s their turn to swirl in my colours. Where all mix up and create things doesn’t exist only they are willing enough to see. Only they are willing to translate my name. My name figuratively translate to delirium too.
Brotipriya 