Peace...

Drowned in the noise of everyday life, deaf to my own thoughts, sinking into the swamp of worries, tossed around by the flood of information — trying to separate what’s truly close to my heart from what only appears to be — I cherish the brief seconds of respite buried beneath the avalanche of work. Wandering through pages of books in those careless pauses, I slowly make my way through the overgrown bog toward the evening, where the sun so gracefully sinks into the ocean’s depths. It feels as though I am following it — yet in truth, I am merely tracing the silent echo of its rays with tired eyes. That path of light — neither too bright nor too dim — is just right. It doesn’t hurt my weary eyes, half-closed in fatigue, yearning for rest.

I tread softly through the mossy mire. My feet sink into the earth, and walking becomes so heavy, as though I were dragging the weight of the whole world on my shoulders — though, in reality, I carry only the burdens of a single, fading day. They are neither many nor few, neither light nor heavy. But upon my shoulders, they offer no comfort. And I cannot simply cast them off — responsibility, that cursed inheritance, won’t allow me to abandon them in this damp, decaying bog that smells of wetness and half-rotten soil.

I straighten my back — those worries aren’t truly unbearable. They’re not so crushing that I should walk hunched, as though bowed beneath the world’s entire misery. Besides, the sun setting toward home calls to me. Its last rays, painting the sky with every shade imaginable, invite me to a final waltz by the sea. And so, I quicken my pace toward that cozy, evening canvas. I can hear the ocean waves crashing, their spray kissing my face with a touch of salt. The dance of the waves, the most exquisite music of the fading day, soothes my weary soul. The wind circles around me like the boldest suitor in this gentle evening drama. And I surrender…

I close my eyes and let the last rays of the sun smooth out my thoughts. My mind opens to freedom, and I realize then what kind of magic pulses through my veins — it flows within me, releasing me from the chains of exhaustion I’ve been forging, link by link, through the long day’s labor. The heavy metal chain falls away with a resounding crash, just as I lift my hands to the sky, thanking all the gods that the day was beautiful — because I had the privilege to live it. It doesn’t matter how it was. The mere understanding that it was opens my thoughts to the grace of evening… and to the peace I had sought and finally found.

A gentle smile brushes across my tired face — the sun’s farewell kiss. I follow it with my eyes, and in return, it blesses me with a masterpiece of nature… as if to remind me that peace does not dwell in it, but within me.

For a long time, I keep watching the sky where moments ago the sunset painted the shore in fire. Then, slowly, I turn back toward the bog. I wade once more into the labyrinth of my work, gathering the remnants of unfinished tasks, sorting and arranging them for tomorrow. And within my soul, in soft echoes and colors too beautiful to name, the memory of the sea and the dying sun guards my inner peace.