I think it is outstanding, rather fascinating, mind-boggling even, that standing at the edge of the ocean can make the world fall so quiet.
Well, that’s just it, isn’t it? - The question is obviously that the world doesn't fall quiet - you see, silence is subjective: something that individually we have to define. A fable is solely about morality, yet, again, morality is something too vague and free to add reigns to. No?
The ocean, like silence and morality, is vast and cannot be drowned by a label.
The oceans, the seas, lakes, small puddles, droplets - all have commonality, commonality to us.
Brash, I know - and I’m sure you are all thinking goodness where is she going with this - but hear me out.
This is a fable about the ocean and the ocean being an allegory …
On a still evening tranquillity screams from the meagre waves, whilst at the shore, we earthlings watch the water enviously. Above, a delicately winged butterfly, blue-tinged, hovers over the white froth of the crash. That crash that in theory would create a concoction of roaring sounds, but this is gentle and hushes at the coast like a doting mother. The ocean lulls us into a sense of security. Our feet begin to slowly melt into the coarse sand below; our eyes are being hypnotised by the ripples; our focus glides onto the flutter of that lonely butterfly.
Cautiously, the friendless creature rises into the blue depths of the sky. Cloudless and serene, we at the coast relax into the whispering of the wind and snores of the waves - the butterfly, however, rises into the scorching sun and hears a piercing metronome. The screeching tap is dull to all humans that stand, sit and lay ignorantly on the beachside. Time is causing that irritable ding - the butterfly flaps its wings in a more erratic manner, in an effort to escape the passing of seconds that constantly seems to haunt it. The waves still whisper.
Evidently, the butterfly is in a whirlwind of chaos. But, the novelty of the delicate and vibrant blue appearance has worn away and the people, us earthlings, lose care for the helpless organism. The creature vanishes into the abyss, and without notice from any of us - none of us! Instead we all, in the midst of a humid summer eve, drift into our own relaxations. On the left of the bay, small children splash in the shallow puddles. Their exuberance is truly admirable and their laughter - that cackles as loud as a murder of crows- is simply infectious. Yet, the sound is muffled because on the right there are adults doing water aerobics. Knee-high and wading through the waves they perspire, focusing on each muscle as they gasp for air. In the centre of the sand are young adults, students most likely, they are gathered in several groups and are sprawled out all over - the chatter amounts to a ruckus, something disturbing to the ear, is seemingly disturbing nothing.
All sounds seem to be muted by the waterside. I stand here observing noise but hearing none. The ocean is all I hear. The power, the strength, the control of the ocean that still allows the butterfly, the same creature that humanity forgot, to fly higher and higher until it is content. The infamous seas, which many here fear through the threat of the current, are using its powers to drown the sound of the world. Everyone on this shore is focused and under the spell of the ocean. The waters of the world have influence, the waters of the world have importance, the waters of the world seem to create peace. The motion of the ocean is what is captivating us all, it sings us a lullaby.
Noise, you see, has such great importance in our world, that it causes distraction. Everyone on this shore is blind to their surroundings, they can only hear the product of their activities. That elegant butterfly is aware of us all, it hears all the commotion which only exemplifies its grace. A little small and seemingly insignificant being is aware and that is what increases its attraction. Why is the butterfly so precious? Why is the butterfly so knowledgeable? That butterfly hears beneath the ocean - it hears the world that lives below, it hears the secrets of the ocean, hence it is uneasy. The Earth is made by the oceans and the oceans are what make the world delightfully corrupt. That butterfly has a place on the earth, that butterfly is what hears everything but unfortunately, everyone is influenced by the mystery of the ocean. Then again, we all begin to like the OCEAN.
Duck x
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