The Ocean Forgets Nothing
By Saniya Mayak

The ocean does not close its eyes.
It watches the years fold into themselves,
tasting the rust of old anchors,
the salt of lost names.
It knows the weight of a shipwrecked whisper,
the hush of a moon pulling tides like thread.
Somewhere beneath, silence lingers—
not absence, but memory resting its hands
on the backs of blue-veined waves.
A coral’s slow bloom, a whale’s low hymn,
the flicker of silver bodies weaving
between past and present like breath.
It has carried the wreckage of centuries,
washed the bones of forgotten kings,
tossed back the prayers that never reached
where they were sent.
Yet, still, the horizon remains–
a promise or a question,
a line the ocean will never cross
but always chase