Expanding Sea

Once, there was a tale of a soul who walked the entirety of the sea. She defied the boundaries of Eros, the longing for life, and Thanatos, the ever-present specter of death.

This wanderer was no ordinary mortal, but an angel.

Draped in a long, flowing white gown, her hair a cascade of fiery red, she navigated the boundless sea with an air of grace. Emerald eyes sparkled, and her small frame seemed to dance over the waves.

For years uncounted, this angel roamed, her feet never touching solid ground. Some saw her as a cursed intruder, a devil in disguise, while others believed her to be a blessed messenger, an angel gracing the sea. Regardless of perception, she tread a fine line, defying the boundaries of life and death with a delicate grace.

Her journey spanned islands, hours, and emotions, leaving echoes of solace in her wake. A ghost to the sea, yet a beacon of grace to those it acquainted.

The tale of this angel endured not for the pleasure of onlookers, but for what she endured herself.

Her odyssey was a testament to resilience, a saga of facing the elements head-on. Nations at war deemed her an intruder, casting her aside as an outsider. Pirates sought to cross her path, viewing her as a worthy challenge. Yet, she would retreat, finding refuge in the vast expanse of the sea.

Beneath her feet, creatures of the deep, from whales to fish, swam in harmony, carrying echoes of her past steps and the very essence of the sea. Through them, she learned that not all souls were cruel, that understanding could bridge divides. Over time, she recognized that seeking virtue in the void could lead to disappointment. The true treasures lay in an observant heart.

Yet, she knew that nothing could be clung to forever. Her chilled feet, touching the frigid surface of the sea, served as a reminder: never cease the journey, never relinquish the belief that first set her on this course. She understood that these transient lives, the complex creatures beneath her, would fade as she moved forward. The value of impermanence dawned on her, the experiences against the cold gaze of Thanatos shaping her into what she had become.

The birds above, with their unburdened flight and gentle caresses upon her fiery hair, stirred a longing within her. They were freer, unburdened by the liminal dance she found herself in, a seeker of Eros within the shadow of Thanatos.

Her heart trembled at the specter of war, the merciless clash of humanity. It wasn't the deaths that haunted her, but the corruption of minds, the relentless painting of souls in shades of black and white. Even in the most ordered lands, good and evil blurred, right and wrong hid.

As time passed, the angel transformed. Her once white dress now bore the marks of her journey, damp from countless steps. Anxiety gave way to calm, fear to acceptance. Her gaze, once sharp with trepidation, softened into a steady serenity. She had lost her sight to fear, but discovered a quiet strength within the chaos.

She came to understand that it was her own will that forged her path, her feet carrying not just the weight of her elegant frame, but the essence of her existence. Through the years, she was perceived as a wraith, her steps silent, her presence a marvel to the townsfolk.

When, after countless years, her feet touched land once more, the town gazed upon her in wonder. She moved among them like an angel sent from above, her steps leaving no imprint. Her feet held stories, a chronicle of years, as they gently caressed the earth.

When asked if her story was true, she responded with a kind detachment, "For many years, I fled the pain that I feared would one day catch me. I had to do what I did to keep living. I let the world lift me up, so I could let myself down gently when the time came. I do not blame nor praise anyone for my legacy. I had to do this, for death was right beneath my feet, and I had to keep walking, to glimpse life in the shadows of death. Only then did I truly understand that life is held within the grasp of death."

She then walked away calmly, leaving the town for good.

It is said that nobody has seen her after that day, and only witnessed her kind act in front of the graveyard, above their village.

People saw her, gently lifting her rotten dress, and bowing against the graveyard, all with her dull grace.

Against death itself, that she finally come to accept that she can not escape from, but to humbly accept it.