It is all in a day, I wish to seek a place where gates lay open to me. But the days come by and nothing seems to welcome me.
There is a port which opens to everyone, yet at different times. Sometimes people don’t even last to see it open, but the door still exists after their gone. Sometimes we call it success, sometimes we call it luck. No one knows when it opens in their lives but everyone knows how to enter it, we just differ in how we try. We can be the smartest, the greatest, the best and yet the weakest in how we approach it. Since that is what we believe we are and can be. Each of us is but a single boat within the ocean, finding that certain port. We may encounter other ports to land on, but there is always a choice to find somewhere that suits you best. It is in the changing tides one may encounter in this vast ocean another boat. We may struggle to get ashore and maybe, just maybe change our goal from just landing to changing the tide itself, and draw the ports to us.
In a scene wherein you row in solitude without destination. The surface of the water reflects your endless journey. You maybe paddling across history, so deep, it may devour you. The world is so much for you, it becomes uncountable for your selection but not undefinable for your navigation. And a journey, lastly, to become the mirror of your own choices. What surrounds you is a deep blue, or black of night. But either way both of them exist as rare in the visible spectrum of light. This darkness so precious, but unlimited we take for granted. Like blue, like white, like grey you are in a journey starting from yourself defining out to the beyond. In the end, where is the end? We are but the definition of our chosen limits, from outside to inside.
From inside to outside, what defines a person due to situation. In comparison to the ride is oneself. Needs, wants, and status, all which bound us to make certain decisions, that are choices alone, an accumulation of the unseen. Different from the ocean which lets us see to a certain degree, us ourselves are opaque letting light be blocked or reflected. Making what is inside us for as long as we live the portion of the journey that lays in unseen.
The boat rocks to the waves. The man sways from the boat. And the motion supports the waves. It is in this system of one stronger than another that keeps them in motion. They differ simply by the amount of each other. Like when man is more than the body of water, rivers can run dry and olympic pools can empty. Lakes can even move through man’s united effort. While the boat is but a tool or interpreter of actions from a human body to heavenly one. The journey is all but an act of an exchange between to bodies. And their exchange defines goals and limits to existence. And all can be lived in a day in a boat.