Monologue #2: Why I write

I open my eyes to a world that through everything powerful-big or small, speaks to me in some language unequal to any that ‘speech’ comprises. But, am i to record them all? I’m not to write the words of the God like Moses. No- because my faith is very close to me and  instead I feel strong force  pushing me  from inside vigorously, to respond to everything that whispers into my ear the subtlety of their existence. Uncanny. That’s my faith. I write, to inform myself that I exist.

I write,

I write because ocean’s vastness is ineluctable, and so irresistibly overpowering that my surfing board and I need to think twice before we touch the waves or the bed, or even both.

I write because something of this ocean makes me fearless. I can sense how mysteriously it moves, settles and yet that its current can break my body into crumbles by the force unimaginable. Not sharks, or venomous creatures in the darkness of the inky Prussian Blue, but the enigma of the matter of that infinity that excites me. The sunset kisses its surface, a new kind of silhouette appears before my eyes.

I write because I want to see how far my imagination can stretch.

Did I mention that I’ve not lived near any water body, literally, geographically, ever, for that matter??


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