Streams of Being #2
August 2025
Streams of Flow
Off the currents go, carrying their nutrients to whomever needs them most. Could my words carry their wisdom to whomever seeks it most?
The tides carry me here, they carry me there. Suddenly, I'm everywhere. And I give in. Lately, I've been struck by the most wonderful thing: I have surrendered to the whims of my creativity. I allow it to disarrange me, and, in a composed insanity, I have been collecting my treasures. Following my desires. Wherever they go, I am right behind them. So long as they lead me astray into the realms of fruition, I shall always follow them.
There’s sand underneath the soles of my feet, shells between my toes, and salty humidity clinging to my hair. The breeze kisses each pore on my skin, and the cold shuts them tightly, but I’m not complaining. Reflected in my eyes are the waves of the ocean. Each time I stare at its enormous eternity, I know it will always carry me where I need to go.
I dive in and allow it to take me home. To whichever deserted island it thinks I could learn the most from. So long as there’s pen and paper there, it will be my home. A candle and some strong tea would also be nice to find, but I can try making those at a later time. What truly matters is that I introduce the ink to the paper, where all the symbols of our universal conversations become their shape. Then, when it’s finally time for you to decipher them, a magical ghost ship will come, bottle them up, and deliver them right to your doorstep.
I hope that in this voyage, my words do not lose the wisdom you were seeking, somewhere along the journey.
Strong Winds
Strong winds, Carry my screams Above the saltwater's surface Will they reach you On the other side of the ocean? Which continent you are in, I am not sure, But should they ever reach you, You can rest assured, I will ride the currents Until I find you
Pen to Paper
As the pen meets the paper The words do not waver I've been writing poetry for so long My consciousness drips in the form of a song Even in prose I rhyme, As if the words might fall from their prime But would that be such a disaster? What if I make them fall much faster?
Estuaries
As the river meets the sea And sweet turns to sour The saltwater my drowsiness devours I am wide awake On a broken ship, But ready to sail again Whatever may come I'll fix the holes And float once more I left my dear trees behind, For in the water I'll be sure to find The reason why the river aims to become much bigger than it has always been
Seashells
I take a step I find a shell With a message I must hear I hear it And I walk once more Two steps And another shell appears at my feet With another message I must hear I hear it And I walk once more Three steps I almost step on the next shell I hear its message As I must And I walk once more Four steps One more shell Five steps Another shell Six steps Yet another shell Seven steps Seven shells Seven messages All of which I take into account As I follow along my journey Then eight shells And so it continues...
Message in a Bottle
You’re swimming and something bumps into you It’s solid and smooth Kind of cold too You reach for it It’s a bottle. It’s ancient And worn It seems empty, But could it hold anything? You open it. A scream escapes And infiltrates your ears It’s my primal scream That I have longed to make you hear I finally confessed it. The pain you’ve brought me Sinking me to my knees I prayed a wish upon a star, Yet I still had to learn how to live with your absence I hope you can feel it.
North Star
North star Take me Take me far Far away from here Wherever you shine I shall be right behind Following wherever Wherever you breathe And I’ll breathe with you Through whatever you put me through I’ll make the most I’ll make the absolute most of it
The Girl on the Desk
I was merely sitting on the edge of a nearby cliff. I wasn’t going to jump or do anything. It was simply a nice place to sit to quiet my thoughts. Between the roar of the waves or the screams of the wind, I can’t hear myself, and I find true peace. So, you can imagine my surprise when the wind suddenly went completely still. It’s like it was made of steel, with how sharp its silence was. Then the waves turned their song into a soft whisper. So faint, I had to strain hard to listen, and I almost fell off the edge. But I swear there was something they wanted me to hear.
I could’ve jumped, and I would’ve heard them faster, or gone the other way around, down the narrow road along the cliff towards the sand, and I would’ve lost some of the words. However, there was no need for either. Before I could make my decision, the waves rose in my direction, and they said: “Somewhere, far away from here, there is a girl sitting on a wooden desk, in the middle of a lost island, writing through her tears. She begged us to find the first person we could, and transmit to them the wisdom seeping from her heartstrings.” I gasped, and the salty air invaded my lungs, forcing them into a cough. “Are you alright?” They asked. I nodded in assent, and they continued. “Well then, from the very beginning…”
I can’t begin to describe to you what they said next. There are truths that travel much farther than one’s own comprehension. But I could tell, that no matter how wise, no matter how smart, no matter how strong, this girl was, she was, above all, extremely lonely. The biggest wisdom I could retain from her story was that we are nobody all alone. We need each other to fill in the gaps in which we fail or falter. And that there’s nothing wrong with that. I may not understand much about these things, but I know how wonderful a hug can feel. After pondering for some moments on how to proceed, I decided to follow the wisdom from my very own heartstrings. There was a person in need of a friend, and that was one role I could fulfil. I asked the waves to take me to her island, and I slipped into their soft embrace.
From the Diaries of a Pirate
I would argue that holding the things you love too tightly could lead to destruction. For instance, should the ocean grab the boat in which I am travelling with too much force, it would sink and rot for the rest of eternity, and we would all die in the process. It would be the ocean’s forever, but at what cost? Therefore, I believe the ocean should allow it to travel back and forth, skimming through its surface, coming and going as it pleases. And this is true for many things in life.
You cage a bird, and you lose the ability to see it beautifully fly far off into the distance. The more you try to control your partner, the more they will welcome the urge to leave. The more you cling too tightly to your money, the more you’ll need to spend it in the future. This is why I like to accept when things come to an end. They were never truly mine, and I was never truly theirs; just like life.
One day, I will have to accept that very same life fleeing from my body. Most likely in the form of an execution by the Royal Navy. But until then, I will spend my time teaching this lesson to the nobles. The more they try to hide their treasures, the quicker my crew will find them and pillage them. We will sell it to merchants who will sell it to buyers, who will keep them in safes, until they either sell them or lose them or get robbed. And the more they try to keep them hidden, the more others will covet them. And so, eventually, they’ll come back into my hands, should they decide that, only for me to let them go again.
The Delivery Ghost
It’s been two days since I left the island with the last round of wise words to deliver. I think that girl may be moved to some other island soon, but who knows? That’s none of my business, I’m simply the dead delivery guy.
Right now, I’m trying to make sure that all the addresses are correct on the packaging before we land; I need things to go as smoothly as they can. The sky is dark, and the stars are shining far brighter than in the continents. That’s what the lack of light pollution does, apparently. As per usual, we have been guiding ourselves by the North Star. Sometimes, I wish I could understand the mysterious ways in which it works, it always seems to know where we need to go.
It should take us seven more days to start delivering these to each doorstep. Usually, I don’t pay much attention to the customers, or their reactions - time is of the essence, and I can’t afford to lose it on silly things like that, which is pretty ironic for a ghost -, but, lately, their expressions are much more vivid. It’s as if they have, in fact, received the very words that they have been longing to hear for so long. For once, my job has gotten interesting. Maybe, one day, I’ll ask the girl for some words for myself. Either way, I can’t wait for the end of the next seven days.
Here is the PFD with the texts and the designs I made with so much love, totally for free. I hope you enjoy it <3!
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Beautiful writing!