Johanna smiled. Tide is born and hits with vigour, the stubborn rocks that scatter along the shore. Foam dies for quite a while, showing its white. And that white grows dimmer every passing moment.  And when it takes too long to perish, it would get washed off in the rising tide. The tide wouldn’t care a bit to get hit and split by the rocks or to rise over the steep sands, and it rushes through. Sands do love the tide and favour its inception, yet their love is fleeting and soon lost, and they drain its vigour till the last drop, as the tide struggles to reach further up. Then the tide contemplates and rests a while, and when it decides to quit at last, ironic it is, the sands which rivalled it for the best part of its time, find their love yet again, try to pull it up and bubble out foams as if to sing its legacy. As if to try and lure it with perks, of which it no longer cared about. Soon dies the tide, falls back to the source and gone is the foam and with it, the legacy tide left.

“Nothing matters.. nothing stays..” Johanna repeated to the skies. “The vigour in rise, the fall that follows, legacy left, nor the washed off  past. Nothing matters. The tide rises as to its nature and struggles as to its nature. It falls as every tide must and leaves a legacy by the courtesy of the sands it battled. Nothing waits, nor lasts longer than it would, and a new tide must always rise to run through the ruins. Nothing stays. Such is the nature, and therein lies the beauty of the game it plays over and again. All despite the pain and toil each tide takes. Nothing is ever gained or lost, yet the game never stops and the comfort any tide could take while it toils shall lie in the knowledge that it would sooner or later return to the source.” Skies nodded and grew more clear.

Johanna arose. She walked through now, along the shore and through the rising tides. The morning sun greeted her and vigour rose in her heart. She shall start her battle yet again as she must, and the tides washed off her past.

-Avinash Kumar


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