To Love an Ocean ...

What does it mean to love the ocean?

Is it only the calm tide that whispers,
“I’m easy to love”?

Or is it the violent wave that asks,
“Can you handle me?”

Or is it both—
belonging to the same ocean,
simply yearning—

be my shore.

When you are used to giving and receiving love in fragments,
the ocean will always overwhelm you.

Some of us spend our lives wanting to carry the ocean in a bottle—
to keep a piece of it close,
to hold it,
to understand it.

But do we realise—

a bottle may carry water,
but it can never carry the ocean.

And perhaps that is where we make our mistake.

Because if she were easy to love,
would she ever become this majestic?

If everyone could hold all of her,

would she ever become this admired?

The ocean was never meant to become smaller
to make others comfortable.

She was meant to remain endless.

So who could ever love her?

Oh—
the shore.

The one who never asks the tide to apologise.

The one who says—

come to me.

Whether she arrives in stillness
or in storms.

Whether she comes quietly
or crashes with all her force.

Even when the winds ask him to retreat,
he stays.

Not because he wants to contain her.

But because he understands—

the ocean was never asking to be held.

Only to be returned to.

To a bystander,
the ocean feels like too much.

But to the shore—

she always comes back.

And somehow—

that has always been enough.