It's a wonder how the ocean is so transient, yet so permanent. There's a pattern to it and then there isn't. You're always on your toes, anticipating. One moment it throws you out of the waters and comes back to caress you lightly in the next. You can't imagine how something of this unfathomable dimension and power could be so gentle. Love is like that too, full of contradtictions - it can make you feel invincible and leave you broken in an instant. Wandering in the labyrinth of my thoughts, I sit, just at the end of the water's reach, not too close, not too far. Close enough to let waves kiss my toes, far enough to not get drenched. Much like how someone can't be with the one they love but they cannot stay away either. And here I am again, trying to make sense of love through the ocean. It was the clouds last week. Trying to understand the beauty and mystery of it. Of why we use the analogy of being up in the clouds when we want to say we're happy. Now I'm here, attempting to comprehend why the lovers' eyes are always called oceans; and how a person says they'll swim across oceans for someone they love. The mountains I saw last year made me think the same. Everything has been intertwined with love somehow. Yet it still remains to be the most elusive thing to find, and to keep. I guess when you're in love, you look for it in everything around you - the vast sky, the deep oceans, the essential air, the mesmerizing clouds, the blinding sun, the beautiful moon, the brilliant stars, even the dark of the night. It then makes some sense that we have attached a meaning to every object. You won't ever find me admitting it, but I'm looking for love everywhere too. I'm looking for you.