The Shore.

I saw the shore, this time I am certain I did. See, last time I thought I had seen it, turns out it was a mirage. I was on a boat, chasing the sunset when a sudden swell in the current capsized my vessel. I was tossed up by the high tide, submerged by the crushing waves and chocked by the water I had gulped. My sinking self was left clutching at the debris. I almost drowned, but I made it. It will always remain one of those inexplicable miracles.

So here I was again, still chasing the sunset, only this time it was on a raft I had made from the wreckage of my boat. My main goal was to make it straight and direct to the shore. See, there is something about making it through a storm that emboldens you,giving you the confidence to paddle on knowing you can stand the rain. Understandably, the zest of gazing into the strikingly vast and color-soaked sky had frizzled and the steadiness of my raft mattered more. I did not want to be caught off guard. Talk about activating survival mode.

I was engrossed on steering the raft when I noticed a peculiar ray mirrored on the surface of the now calm sea. I had seen many rays before but this one had a reassuring glow. The kind that signals you are almost home. So I looked up and for sure, it felt like home. It's beautiful beams stretched magnificently over the horizon gently kissing earth and the best part, I could see the beach. 'I made it', I yelled out a long sigh of relief. 'I am home, I mad...

...but even before I could fully experience the consolation of that moment, the raft was lifted on the first of the breakers. The tide had started to rise and the billows were raging. I could see them crush violently at the shore albeit at a distance. I had been here before, I had weathered a tempest; waded through the high waters and gotten to the clear deep with beautiful coral and schools of fish. I had experienced it all; the anger and the stillness of the waters. I was confident in my swimming skills, I was going to make it.

...but you know what hurts most, coming so close to the shore, knowing it's within your reach and having the certainty of making it to the island then suddenly being inverted by the angry torrent, fighting to stay afloat while gasping for breath and coughing out the brine ocean water swigged. Wiping off your face, trying to swim but the strokes make no difference. You are drifting further and further away from the shore.

I'd rather drown in the deep, where I know no shelter or help is nigh than to catch a glimpse of the white sand, the palms and their  branches swinging to the tune of the wind and then have it all dwindle as the current wafts me further away from everything I thought I had in my grasp.