Poetic Waves 소설 & 이야기

The surge of the waves was so powerful that none could stand before Eryndor's miraculous power that he invoked to the Lords The sun rose with warm golden rays over the blueish waves of the Merriam Sea. The lapping sound of waves created a smooth and serene span of time, and Eryndor was walking on the beach alone. He gazed at the feeling of footprints that were melting with the ebb and flow of the seawater. The blue whales delivered their messages by echoing sharp piercing shrill. Gloating and diving after a few moments. They caught the little fish and pushed them to move ahead of them.

-RAINA’S POV- “My prayer is that our moon goddess will help us to grieve in waves. In this mournful period, it feels like the grief is crashing on us like an avalanche, but once we support each other and can be there for each other, the rapid flow of cold despair can melt into gentle healing waves that touch our souls. Soothing, warm waves that will heal us as we face each day together and get through it.” I managed to get through without weeping with as much as I could muster, despite the tightness in my stomach.

The burden to be doesn't bother me. I slowly open my eyes and gasp at the sight in front of me. Waves of different colours float in the air and around me. I have seen these before. It's everytime I come across a person or find one, I see their waves emitting from them. But nobody is here except me,so why do I see so many waves? I look around the hall and find a translucent wave generating from the floor of the raised platform. Huh? And another wave generates from the crevices of the red curtain that stays tied at one end of the stage. I look at my hand and waves come out of them and spiral my body. It's so beautiful. The wave emitting from my hands and legs is a shiny pink wave with glitters

It continues to spiral— inward, outward, inward again. There are no verses. No chorus. Only waves. Waves of becoming. Waves of remembering. Sometimes, we find ourselves weeping for versions of ourselves we’ve never been— and loving them anyway. Sometimes, we fall silent not from absence, but from fullness. And in that fullness, we understand: We were never writing the song. We were always being sung.

The waves began to float harmoniously in his direction, and only stones did not allow them to get out of the sea surface. Opening the first page of the book, he began to greedily read it. Before his eyes, beautiful words filled with the spirit of old times floated. Gently plunging into poetry, he himself, without expecting it, suddenly began to read aloud, read aloud and solemnly. And with his voice, the waves, too, began to rage as if they made it clear that they were hearing him. What kind of verse it was and why with every word his heart fluttered, we do not understand. But one thing is certain, it was a verse about love.

Author pov: "Since you didn't give me that desert, now I will take my favorite sweet. No other sweet can beat it's taste" Karthik said kissing Arvi's temple. Their faces were too close and both are not ready to break the eye contact it's like they are entered into another world. Both are lost looking into each other eyes forgetting about their surroundings without even blinking their eyes but their trance broke when they heard a click sound of the camera.

Mike was the type young man I know would suit my crown husband that was why I was always intentional about it. I know it sounded desperate, and uncalled for about my weird actions because we were still in secondary school chasing our dreams and finding a great paths for ourselves. But, I believe love waves, so it could waves to any ages, situation, time, hours, circumstances to feel that feeling and realize something, or someone is yours. I was just blushing as he speak. I felt really alright. My body that was quivering, calmed down as I calmly listen to his magical voice spoke. It was an unimaginable auditory images one could ever get right.

“Let’s see it.” I turned the paper over, and revealed the poem scrawled in pencil on the back. Down the streets of woodland black I wander, earth to hearse In every tree I see a wave A looming tidal curse On the cusp of something greater Stood ankle-deep in floodwater Stagnant pools of brown and red The onslaught is coming; I dread For each dark night and each pearl day The mist does clear too soon The floodplain is drown’d again The water, torn from its ocean womb

And that has been precisely what I have been doing; staying afloat and trying not to drown in my despair. In the beginning, the waves are a thousand feet tall and crash over me without mercy. They come only seconds apart and don’t even give me time to catch my breath. All I can do is hang on and float. After a while, I find the waves are a hundred feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over me and wipe me out. But in between, I can breathe, I can function. I never know what is going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, or the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything…and the wave comes crashing. But in

And Estrella, who had spent so much of her own life feeling unseen in that particular dimension, felt a quick and reckless tug of recognition. By the final chorus, something in her had softened against her will. She closed her eyes and let the sound wash through her. In the darkness behind her eyelids came flashes not of clear destinations but of atmosphere: tiled courtyards, train stations, narrow streets after rain, café windows lit at midnight, voices calling out in languages she had never learned. She thought, absurdly, of the world not as geography but as texture. When the final note fell away and the square erupted in applause, the return to the present felt almost violent.