And the broken tower of my castle lay at the foot of the raging tide, cocooned in fear of being stamped.
Pitying the sorry state of the broken structure, I stared at the wave. It was disassembling the magnificence of the sand edifice. Inch by inch.
Within a few seconds, I was looking at the void where the nearly non-existent remains of my sandcastle sloped. Close by, dabbed in white foams, the layers of sand did their best to conceal the cadaver of the dead wave.

I smiled at the subtlety of inevitability, echoing from the silenced wave it travelled all the way to the relics of my castle that it shattered. Like an abandoned queen thrown out of her grandeur, I stood still on the verge of a closing day. Soon this landscape featuring the sea, a fallen castle and a dead wave would be engulfed by the silvery hue of the cratered moon.
Like a homeless wanderer, I prepared myself to move from this soon to fall apart spectacle, to the next one coming in my way.
Leaning on the revolving yellow light of the ancient lighthouse night walked in.
The sea blushed with a shade of deep blue at its arrival. It was a newly forming picture and I had just moved into it. There were no birds in here. Only one or two who flew from time to time, instead of themselves. With the darkness building deep around and within me, I groped for light. It is exactly then that I found it.

Like a crown complementing the wildness of the waves, it was a speck of bright light. It twinkled amidst the capricious wind. I was taken aback at this sight. Glinting specks of lights resemble the stars most often. But the sea doesn’t wear stars for crowns, only the sky does. Lost in such ponderings, the sudden siren of a ship suspended my further thoughts for an indefinite time.

I glanced back. The light which was as small as a morsel seemed to have dilated a little. It played on the ripples of the unsettling water, mocking their threats into dust. The bravery radiating from the tiny flickering speck was slowly threading my weakened heart to its daunting soul. The many times the uneven winds attempted to rip me apart, I harboured myself. This valour that I showcased, was not mine to brag, it was lent by this light twinkling somewhere in the mid-sea, whose origins I was oblivious of. I wasn’t even confident of its existence. It could all be a concoction of my homeless mind in desperate need of refuge. Or perhaps the light resembled a dead star, seeming to shine even after it has ceased to exist. Or maybe it was real.

But who questions the validity of her mascot? The one who saves needs no name, no race or origin. This spot of luminosity smelt of home to me. Like an ardent worshipper of it, I poured by relentless stares on that small yellow light, the light which seemed to be strolling towards me, now. Touched with new hope, an image of my new home started to be forged in my mind. And thus, another landscape was born, with the dark night, the waves, the flickering yellow light, the moon and the half-made image of a new home.

Unfortunately, this had taken quite some time, the faint light of fresh dawn stretched its arms, cracking open the dark sky narrowly. The death of this landscape was written in the hands of the dying night…

The lifeless night carried with it that glowing grain of light as it’s dying wish. And the image of my half-constructed home followed them too…

I stood there, at the edge of yet another vanishing scene, just like the time before.
In the eastern sky, there appeared a jet of red light, and with it, another spectacle was in its inception.
I realised that I belonged to none of these panoramas. I was just a silent bystander, glancing at the different scenes. I was a sedentary traveller standing in the heart of an altering spectacle.
But how long could I combat the dominant waves? How long will I fight the gust of unruly winds?
If I give in someday, making the inevitable, inevitable indeed, forget me not. I implore you. Oh, oh, but you barely know me. Unfortunately, the anonymous are hardly remembered. We seldom reminisce, somebody, when we don’t know what to remember her by. Maybe, an image, an address, a title, a vibrant memory or something of that sort, anything that reduces the abstractness.

So today on this page of wet sand, I sit to write my epilogue…

I am a red flag that has fallen off its plummeted castle tower. I am an abandoned queen wearing a headdress of shabby grandeur. I am a havenless traveller standing barefoot in the sandy bay.

And most importantly I am someone like you.

rustleofleaves89

Abstract

18-04-2020