The Right Destination

I can smell the sea and the faint prickling of the spruces.
They are the reminiscent of the holiday, far-off of home.
The sands glisten from the sunbeam.
The dark blue ocean is the unfathomable vastness.

You and I stand under the waving spruces, wind in our face, your hands wrapping mine.
I catch a glimpse of the serene ocean before staring at you.
Your eyes, a pair of mystifyingly sheening onyx, squint to the remote horizon.
When they find mine, everything around me fades.

Yet you smile, that crooked smile like a grin.
I know.
My long journey has come to an end.
The vessel has anchored.

Then you release your hands to pull me closer.
You crouch, chin on my shoulder, hands embracing me.
You whisper,
"Thank you for always coming back."

My home.
My shelter.
It's you.
It's always been you.

I can feel your warmth.
Your steady heartbeat.
My world stops spinning.
The gravity is no longer put me in place but you.

Everything seems right.
All the yearnings turn into void.
The pains are gone as if they had never been there.
As if I had never been hurt.

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