The tall steps were a twisting serpent of a kind—each passing stepping creating the most rhythmic of a beat. Steady breath in, steady breath out. Steady breath in, steady breath out. The tallies rose in the ascent to the top. Peering around corners and into the winding alleyways, the boy knew he was somewhere where he didn’t belong, yet felt strangely connected at home. Perhaps his spirit was waiting at the top to share its secret.
Isolating to the hillside, his intentions were to listen to a message hidden within, ironically by reveling in the exterior view of the mountainous seaside and long stretches of beaches. The sea-salted air, the rolling hillsides spilling into the sea, the clear blue sky—all aesthetically soothing—but none answering his question. A dichotomy, nonetheless.
After allowing the view to saturate every corner and cranny of his eyes, he slowly descended the twisting steeps and corridors. Taking note of every crook and cranny, ever worn down house and battered door, every metal sheeted roof top and every strangled-eyed cat. The boy took great care to take note of it all; to not miss a single thing. He was not ready to go, but the hour was near.
Lost in his own thoughts, there was now one else to question now but himself. Still prying at the treasures he knew his soul carried. He regained focus while crossing the boulevard from the favela to the beach’s shore front. Removing his shoes one by one, the boy stumbled haphazardly towards the waters — half wanting to plunge right into its shores. Cellphone, wallet, clothes be damned. Perhaps his soul lied there with the questions he was seeking.
He plopped down on the white sand and settled for a seat instead. What a beautiful view, he thought. Wave by wave came rolling down the beaches shore. The waves toppled over one by one like leafs paging in a book. Maybe they are telling me a story, he thought, a message from the soul. The sand took great note and care, listening to ever word being spoken by the sea and transcribing its message into a salted spray. A temporary moment to seen and read before the next chapter rolled in; erasing the old, and creating the story a new.
The boy let the weight of his shoulders roll loose. His eye lids shut, melting into his checks to not let in not but a crescent of light. He fell forward gracefully—first his knees, then slowly face forward—arms spread wide. The most gloriest of hugs with the earths aging surface. His left ear laid embedded on the grounds floor, feeling the heart beat drumming at its glowing core. Its warmth, rejuvenating. The tranquility of the waves creating a eurythmic sound. There was music all around him.
The weight of his shoulders pressed against the floor. He longed to merge with the Earths heart and the burning fires at its core. Perhaps his souls secret laid hidden there. As he laid sprawled on the floor, his mind’s eye drew the imagine of a single sperm head fighting earnestly to enter into the imperious round egg. An organic wiring to merge as one and create life a new. He thought that image very fitting.
His fingers drew wide as they clenched a first full of sand. A blend of constellations and universes of themselves. Atoms and energies circulating at incomprehensible speeds and depths. He had once heard that there were more stars in the milky way galaxy then all the grains of sand on all the beaches, rivers, doons, and lakes. The thought intrigued him, as the corners of his eyes creased and his lips lifted a warm smile.
From his peripherals, he caught a glimpse of a flock of birds; migrating, perhaps. The staggered pattern of the birds gave him the unmistakable pattern of notes passing on a treble clef. Dotting with accolades and crescendos, the birds flew in patterns of harmony written for those who would only take time to listen to the music.
It was at that moment he lessened his tight grip, and the sand began to fall between his fingers. He wasn’t ready to leave. Why had he not relished every passing moment more so. Relinquished every waking opportunity to listen closer.
A wave crashed down as his eyes lifted upwards and caught hold of the moon, shining a beautiful yellow ghastly glow against the dark cherry sky. There was still so much to learn, so much more to experience, so much more to know, to grow, to frequent, to love, to discover, and to re-create once again. How could he have been so oblivious to such an anticipating moment?
One more wave came crashing down. Did he make the most of the time he was given? His mind raced back feverishly to every moment, tracing between the lines in proclamation of his development. The echoes of laughter and triumphs carried to his left. A pick up game of volleyball had been taken some 25 meters down the shore.
Another wave came crashing down.
He wasn’t ready to leave. He grasped another strong handful of sand, anchoring himself to the ground. He promised himself if he was given one more chance, he’d live it fuller. One more chance, and he’d relish it all and not let a single moment slip unappreciated. One more chance, and not a moment would pass without the full acknowledgment of the beauty endorned. But part of him recognized that wasn’t true; that change was inevitable, no matter how scared he might be or try to resist it. That new chapters will continue to be written, much like the wave’s turning passages.
A final wave once more came crashing down, this time over the boy sweeping him into a concoction of the sea. The tears jetting from his face. Swirling, tumbling, turning, mixing, shaking, stirring into the mouth; the sea then became very slow and still…
The mans eyes slowly blinked open. He withdrew the worn tathered covers from his tethered body, and rubbing his eyes to re-adjust his vision. He staggered upwards walking towards the window, knees weakened with age, pulling aside the single blind to let the morning sun spill through room. He unclasped the window and jetted the panes open. The man stuck his head out the window, taking a fresh inhale of the sea salted air. What a beautiful view, he thought.