21 Jun 2023

Orchestra of The Ocean by Khrystyna Stepanenko

On a cold evening, when I was seventeen,

The ocean sang a lullaby, soothing and serene.

Its mighty waves crashed, drowning my inner strife,

As the sandstorm danced, lifting salty notes to life.


Lost in the melody, I stood by the shore,

Awaiting the dawn of a new spring, evermore.

The ocean's symphony, a balm for my weary soul,

Whispering tales of hope, making me feel whole.


Seventeen seagulls, white and black, took flight,

Creating an orchestra along the coastal height.

Upon the stage of sand and water, I conducted

In sync with nature, as it instructed.


But in my mind, his violin took the lead,

A haunting melody  that filled me with need.

And even a loud wind did not blow away 

That refrain that he created one day

 

The orchestra played on, its notes eternal,

The ocean remained vast, its depths infernal,

Seagulls soared high, never straying far,

The wind whispered gently, like a guiding star.


Yet amidst the eternal, I find my own place,

A fleeting existence, a moment's cape.

For I am not eternal, like the music that played,

But I cherish the memories that will stay.


My love's whispers faded, becoming inaudible,

The central violin fell silent and dull,

The melody ceased, leaving an empty void,

I lowered my hands, surrendering to what was deployed.


Yet in the silence, a mantra I embraced,

A guiding rhythm, leading me through this clamorous space.

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