A tide pulls back—
Not lost, not gone,
Just returning.
The train station was alive, a current of bodies moving in a rhythm no one had orchestrated but everyone understood. A businessman checked his watch for the third time. A teenager scrolled mindlessly on his phone. A woman balanced her coffee as she walked, eyes forward, thoughts elsewhere.
He stood near the platform’s edge, hands in his pockets, watching. Not waiting, not thinking—just watching.
There was no rush in his stance, no urgency in his breath.
The train would come when it came.
The people would move as they always had.
The world would carry on, and he had long since stopped believing that his tension would change the tide.
He had spent years like them—rushing, chasing, gripping life as if it could be bent to his will. Until one day, it had slipped through his fingers anyway.
Now, he only observed.
Not detached. Not apathetic.
Just aware that all things return.
The Illusion of Control
People believe peace comes from fixing things, from gaining more, from being prepared for every possibility.
But control is a mirage.
- You will never hold onto something forever.
- You will never stop change from arriving.
- You will never outrun uncertainty.
To fight this truth is to suffer.
To accept it is to be free.
Everything returns to where it belongs—a river to the ocean, a leaf to the earth, a thought to silence.
A mind heavy with plans will stumble.
A heart tangled in wants will break.
A person lost in the illusion of control will drown.
The world moves without permission, without effort, without needing you to hold onto it.
Let it return.
Lessons from the Man Who Stopped Chasing
- The less you grip, the lighter you become.
- What is meant to return will return—on its own time.
- Silence is not absence. It is where all things begin and end.
- Trying to control life is like trying to hold the tide.
- When you stop chasing peace, you realize it was always there.
The doors slid open. The station breathed, people moving in and out, stories beginning and ending in a rhythm older than time.
He did not rush forward.
The train was not here for him, not yet.
And when it was, he would step on without hurry—just as he would, someday, step off.
life 
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