Love and the Oceans of Fate

A small, worn-down village sits by the shore, along the beachfront of a vast ocean stretching far out until the sea kisses the sky and the horizon drops off into worlds and places far beyond the reach of ordinary mortals. To many of the villagers, their lives revolve around their small place beneath the greater Cosmos and their neighboring towns and cities. They will live out their lives here, and they will die and be buried here—never leaving the shimmering azure of the perpetual ocean, silently sitting guard, and serving as a great impasse between the realm of mortals and the realm of the gods.

Limited by what their seafaring capabilities would allow them, they believe that the pantheon of the gods of the world and of all creation reside somewhere along the horizon, in a place they could never see or hear or touch. They didn't care much about the gods, neither did they spend hours upon hours in mortal philosophy trying to decipher what the immortals were up to and what they were all planning to do.

But they did watch across the sea in hushed and restrained amazement every single day of their lives, watching as the sun bursts into dying orange flames and tinging the sky with its blood, and as the eternal and seemingly bottomless water prepares to bury it somewhere underneath its sacred and hallowed surface. To the mortals, the dance of the sun and the sea offered proof of the gods' mercy—that death and destruction may come for them one day but they will always be assured of revival and resurrection.

The seas, eternal and infinite as they seem, were likened to the meandering course of Fate taking hold of what little life they have in this world. Their legend has it that when one is most desperately lost out at sea, numbed by hunger and dried out by a lack of freshwater, that he finds his way back to the shore. After all, throughout their long history as a village constituted since time immemorial, such has been the case. All of those who venture out into the great unknown of the waters stretching out before them will, one way or another, make it back to dry land, wounded but alive.

Except for one.

The revered and merciful sea did take away one life, that of a young man so vigorous and full of youth, swallowed up by the tides and currents of Fate which could be ever so cruel. He was a lovable fellow, as all those whose lives he has touched would often recount. He was always willing to help and give whatever his means would allow, for his generosity never faltered. That is why, according to the villagers, he was blessed with a loving wife and a bountiful catch.

Love was the one thing he held on to the most. He was ever so gentle and calm with his dealings, a trait that many were envious of. But even the most jealous of souls would succumb to the kindness of his heart, for he was never one to entertain grudges or thoughts of revenge. He was patient with all and was open to all whom he encounters.

Which is why his sudden disappearance into the great waters was greatly mourned. You see, the ocean never fails to send all those who journey into it back home, an unspoken promise of the gods to their human subjects. And yet, even the immortals, the all-powerful beings, do renege on their duties and break their promises, for this young man never returned, his body never found.

His wife never lost hope, however. She would go out by the shore every single morning since the day her husband left, patiently waiting for the love of her life to return, the one whose soul she has searched and mapped, the only heart she will ever touch in this lifetime, in all of her other lifetimes. The village took pity on her and they offered her their strengths and condolences, gathering up all the love and kindness that her husband showed them, and giving it all back to her. To them, whatever one gives up to the waters would come back to him, one way or another, and if this was their only way of repaying the love given to them, then they would so gladly do it.

As the sun and the sea performed their eternal dance, never once failing, every single day, she was by the shore waiting, hope never faltering, heart never ceasing. Day turned after day, and season bowed down to the next, and soon, time, in all of its omnipotent and cruel glory, weighed down upon her. The village lost track of just how many years have elapsed, and soon their lives went on as well, moving on to celebrate festivities after festivities, year after year.

But while her heart and soul never gave up, her body did. After countless years of waiting, her mortal life soon drew to a close, and the waters of Fate soon asked for her life back. From the sands of the shore where she was born and raised, and where she stood in enduring patience for her love to return, she had to return.

And so, the small village wept in mourning, reminiscing the great love that encompassed their small home, all playing out in the eternal and unceasing love that had no place in this world. They carried her old and frail body, weathered by the cruelty of Fate and time, and took it to as far into the horizon as their mortal lives would allow them. And there, in the ocean that took the love of her life away, they buried her. They buried her with the hope that just as the sun descends into the waters only to rise again, the two lovers shall rise together, too.

The gods, who have long since been silent, looked on in awe at the moving expression of the villagers, and they were so deeply moved as well. And so, they decreed, in honor of the love that patiently waits, one that knows neither distance nor time, that looks not at one's form, but at one's heart, that the two lovers, separated by death and the oceans of Fate, will always, in this lifetime or the next, find each other. They will wait on and for each other. They will do so until all the waters of the great sea dry up, until the sun loses all of its fire.

Love will connect their hearts and souls, and they will transcend space and time, life and death, and even the oceans of Fate. They will be constantly together, in skin or in spirit, and they will always recognize each other. They will always find a way back to each other, just as the sea will always find its way back to the sky, and they will be given time, no matter how short-lived or borrowed, and they will cherish their memories for as long as their countless lives from hereon forward will permit.

And when all of this is over, the two of them shall descend, hand in hand, into the depths of the bottomless oceans, there to be nestled in the arms of Fate and in the warmth of each other's embrace, never having to search, never having to suffer, never having to wait, never having to separate—ever again.

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Written on January 8, 2020