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February 7, 2015 / hbrowne4

THE SEA HOUSE by Sourav Bhattacharjee

Up there on the top of the hill –

Stands the sea house bearing the pain

Of testifying to that one essence of

Humanity called History.

On its feet – the white huge waves emerge,

With their veracities and arrogance

Only to fall apart into pieces and

Giving up to the mightiest strength.

Standing in its wooden balcony and

Spreading my view to the horizon –

Where blue meets blue embroidered with

White clouds shining with sunlight;

I can feel the strong fresh winds

And appreciate the frescos where humanity triumphs.

Nothing else matters – not at the end…

For it is that we all survive and die as humans

And standing helpless to this fearful beauty –

Makes one feel to be impeccably minute,

And being devoid of all his senses of power

To finally surrender to this endless beauty.

The sea house makes me face my life

In retrospective to dissect all its flaws –

And regain belief in my days of depression

To dare to search for a new sunrise…

In the horizon where all our hopes finally rest.

These moments of hope make my life

And sculpt the thin lines between the real and surreal

Facts of my life and face myself in mirror.

I can never miss a glimpse of the sea house –

Which refuses to give up to these invading waves,

Every time and injects new life into my body

And soul to supply with that very core of vitality,

To keep on fighting all the odds of life

And keep on pushing to the infinity and beyond.

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