This is a story about a boy.
A boy who could take no more.
Of the troubles of the world.
Every day he went and sat by the ocean,
Observing the pulse of mother earth,
watching the tide, rising and falling,
and the pattern created by the undulations and movements of the water.
One day, he felt something coming from the ocean,
a peace and stillness no words could utter.
A voice, a calling he could not resist.
He unclothed himself and entered.
Closed his eyes, stretched his arms out forward, and swam.
And as he swam, with his eyes closed and feeling his peace,
he felt himself as a drop, dissolving into the ocean.
Sinking, deeper and deeper.
As he dissolved himself completely, he became awakened, to an existence previously unknown.
The boy felt an awakening, and with it an urge, an impulse, a desire.
To arise once again from the ocean, and to express, this desire, to flower.
As he came up from the water and opened his eyes. He looked around him and realised that he had swum out so far that he had lost sight of land.
The water around him felt warm and comforting. He felt that the current of the ocean was carrying him gently along, and to where, he had no idea. Yet he felt peaceful and calm. He felt that he had died and that perhaps this was just a dream.
Soon though, land appeared, an island. He felt the current of the ocean moving him closer towards this new land.
And so a new adventure begins ...
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