The Ocean Without Shore
The Ocean Without Shore I searched for You in the language of edges— in definitions, in boundaries, in names that could be held. But every word I spoke shattered into horizons, and every horizon dissolved into sea. For You are not a word— You are the Ocean from which all words rise as droplets trembling with meaning. And I— what am I but a wandering wave, aching to remember the Depth that birthed me? I drank from the wells of the world, but they were shallow things— mirrors pretending to be water. They reflected my thirst, but did not quench it. Then one night, when the noise of forms fell silent, I heard it— The Call of the Bottomless. Not a voice, but a Pull. Not a command, but a remembering. And my soul cried: “O Ocean of Countless Bottomless Oceans, why do You hide Yourself in drops like me?” You answered not with speech, but with immersion. You broke the shore of my self, and flooded me with Yourself. I drowned— but it was not death. It was...