The love in the storm (Expressive writing)

To me, the Ocean represents so much more than just a body of water. My heart quakes with little tenderness as I  am reminded of simpler days when I stood in front of the mirror and watched heaven wet the earth. In those days I thought about myself as a person who would love with the whole of her heart and without restrictions. That type of love could conquer anything. There was just something about that love that would hold the fear of the world in its hands.  That love would never take for granted the little things.  It would never threaten to leave before the sun awoke and it stayed till the storm ran out of angry words. That was the love I envisioned, the love I still dream of.

There is no rush in finding out if the fruit tastes as sweet as others who have bitten it have said. There is no rush in finding out if a white dress meant forever, or the marriage really did. No rush at all, because patience brings out the discipline to wait for a while. A while that promises a love that would stand the test of time. Maybe somewhere out there somebody is waiting a while for me too. I am no longer torn apart by the birds who fly together or the vultures who lurk around to devour the weak minded. I am no longer eager to know who wants the “what” in me but rather who loves the “who” in me. While I wait, I prepare my mind, body, soul and spirit to be able to handle the love I seek. For I know it would shake my world but calm my heart. In the storm, it will be my peace





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