life

Tag: photography

  • Like Two Gulls. 29

    A cry on the waves—
    Drifting close yet flying free—
    The sea holds their past.

    There was a morning when the mist lay thick over the water, soft as breath. The world was hushed, the sea stretched out in waiting. Two gulls glided across the sky, their wings cutting through the quiet, their cries breaking against the horizon. For a moment, they moved in perfect harmony—one rising, the other dipping, their reflections flickering on the water below. Then, as if caught by separate winds, they drifted apart.

    The Echo of Two Voices

    There is a moment between closeness and distance, a space where everything still feels whole, even as it begins to break. Two voices once singing in unison find themselves fading into separate notes. Two children once running side by side now walk alone. Even the graves we leave behind bear the imprint of what was, a whisper of all that still lingers in memory.

    Time carries us forward, but it does not erase. The laughter of yesterday does not disappear just because today is quiet. The love once given does not dissolve even when hands let go. Like two gulls suspended in the sky, we cross paths, we intertwine, and then we separate, bound not by permanence but by the echoes we leave in one another.

    The Inescapable Distance

    The sea does not belong to any single wave, just as we do not belong to a single moment. Some things slip through our fingers no matter how tightly we hold them. The people we love, the mornings we take for granted, the voices that once called our name—they move away, drawn by unseen currents. And yet, even as they vanish into the horizon, their presence lingers, like the memory of a wing cutting through the sky.

    There is sorrow in this, yes. But also beauty. The knowledge that nothing lasts forever makes every meeting sacred. If we lived in a world where no one ever left, where no laughter faded, where no graves were dug—would we truly cherish the moments we are given?

    1. Fly Together, Even If Briefly – Life gives us companions for a time; treasure the flight while it lasts.
    2. Accept the Distance – Not all paths remain parallel, but that does not make them meaningless.
    3. Hold Without Clutching – The tighter you try to grasp something, the quicker it slips away. Love should be open-handed.
    4. Let the Echo Stay – What was real will always leave a mark, even if it is unseen.
    5. Embrace the Open Sky – Every farewell is also an invitation to something new, an empty sky waiting to be filled.

    As the mist lifted that morning, the two gulls faded into the endless blue. Their cries still lingered in the air, long after they had vanished. I stood there watching, the sky above me vast and open, knowing that even when something is no longer seen, it does not mean it is gone.

    Somewhere beyond the horizon, they would meet again.

  • Distance. 24

    A stone bridge arches—
    Shadows ripple through the years—
    Echoes find their way.

    It was a cloudy afternoon, the kind where the sky hangs low, and the air feels heavy with stories untold. I found myself walking along a riverbank, where the water’s surface carried reflections of scattered branches and pale clouds. The path led to a small stone bridge, its edges mossy and worn, whispering of countless footsteps that had crossed it before mine. As I stood there, leaning against the cool stone, a memory came unbidden—of fields far away, and a voice that once called my name. A voice now distant, muted by time and distance. Between us, the years stretched like an unfurling ribbon, lined with faces I no longer recognized and paths I never took.

    The Weight of Distance

    Distance, whether measured in miles or moments, has a way of carving space into our lives. It separates, isolates, and often leaves us longing for what once felt close. Yet, within that distance, there is also a strange kind of clarity. It strips away the noise and leaves behind the essence of what matters—a glance, a laugh, the sound of someone humming a song you never quite learned the words to.

    In the spaces between, we’re reminded of what we’ve left behind, but also of what we’ve carried forward. The echo of a loved one’s advice, the way their hands moved when they spoke, or the particular way they looked at you when they thought you weren’t paying attention. These fragments persist, even when everything else fades.

    The Silent Bonds

    Distance does not erase connection; it merely stretches it. And like a well-worn thread, those connections may fray but rarely break. They endure in the silences, in the letters unsent and the words unspoken. They endure because we carry pieces of those we love within us, whether we’re aware of it or not.

    But there is also a bittersweet truth—not every distance is meant to be closed. Some remain, vast and unmoving, leaving us to build bridges within our hearts instead. These are the distances that teach us patience, humility, and the art of remembering without holding too tightly.

    Lessons From Distance

    1. Hold On to Fragments: Memories, however small, are anchors. Keep them close; they are the threads that connect you.
    2. Build Inner Bridges: Not all distances can be crossed physically, but emotional bridges can close the gap.
    3. Embrace the Space: Distance often brings clarity. It allows you to see what truly matters.
    4. Let Love Stretch: Connection doesn’t weaken with distance; it adapts, stretches, and evolves.
    5. Learn From the Silence: The spaces between words often speak louder than the words themselves. Listen closely.

    Standing on that mossy bridge, I noticed how the river beneath me carried everything forward. Fallen leaves, stray twigs, ripples born of unseen movements. None of it lingered; none of it resisted. It all flowed, carrying the past into the horizon. And yet, the river itself remained, constant in its course.

    A weathered book with its spine cracked and pages yellowed comes to mind. It’s not pristine, but that’s precisely why it feels alive. The smudges and creases speak of hands that have held it, eyes that have read it, lives that have turned its pages. Distance, too, leaves its marks, but those marks are the proof of love, of connection, of life lived.

    As the first drops of rain began to fall, I left the bridge and followed the winding path back. The memory of that distant voice lingered, not as an ache but as a quiet warmth. Distance had not diminished its significance; it had amplified it. And as I walked, I realized that some distances aren’t meant to be bridged—they’re meant to be honored, their lessons carried forward like treasures.

    The path ahead was uncertain, but the echoes remained, steady and true. And somewhere across the years, I imagined the same river flowing, carrying its own reflections of time, loss, and love.