The Dance of Lava and Sea: A Natural Symphony

In the beginning, there was nothing; no time, no place, no moment to remember.
Only a trembling earth, the water that wrapped around it, and the orb of fire hidden within.
Even though they were buried kilometers deep and seemed separate, their existence was born from the same pulse.
One was a fire concealed in the depths, the other a quiet whisper unto itself.

For thousands of years, they kept nudging each other.
One’s weight, the other’s vibration.
Like an invisible bond.
Aware of each other’s presence, yet countless layers stood between them, preventing their meeting.
Still, they waited for that first encounter—two elements that belonged to one another.
As if the world turned just for them.
One fleeing, the other chasing.
One approaching, the other fading away.
As if it wasn’t a choice but a destiny.
Not possession, not captivity.
A wholeness—that’s more accurate.
A wholeness intertwined.
Can you run from yourself?

Lava rose from the inside of the world—not gently this time, but with a heavy resolve.
As if an ancient desire, silent for centuries, had awakened with an irreversible darkness.
Every stir cracked the ground.
Every breath spread a deeper, darker heat.

The sea heard it.
A nothingness began in its deepest core and grew larger and larger.
First it foamed, then it swelled.
The waves rose higher and higher, crashing onto the shore with a fervor mixed with sorrow, sensing the coming union.
Sweeping away everything that tried to hold onto the earth.

It wasn’t afraid of the darkness, nor ashamed of it—
it swelled in surrender.
And lava approached quietly, indifferent and calm.
It wasn’t coming to be seen;
it was coming to disappear again.
They both knew it.

Lava came very close to the surface—and stopped.
The sea felt the heat.
Heavy, scorching, inevitable heat.
Before touching the air, it sent a tremor that stirred the sea once more.
As if waiting for the sea to rise higher and draw it in,
but it was disappointed.
The waves shrank, the sea calmed.

Then it swelled again,
overflowing the shores,
softening its flow.
It prepared its darkness for the warmth of lava.
Even if the world collapsed, come.
Even if the ground split open, come just once more.

Perhaps this was what lava wanted,
because with a great eruption,
slowly and heavily, it drifted toward the sea.
The darkness lit up; everything beneath turned to ash.
It kept drifting without a care.
The brightness grew sharper.
The moment lava touched the sea, the world lost itself.

The wild waves, unlike ever before, didn’t push back;
they embraced the lava.
And lava, as if it had finally reached where it was meant to be, spread inside the sea,
merging with it, becoming vapor.
With every flow, every curve,
it heated the sea down to its deepest depths.

It became impossible to tell sea from lava.
The sea tightened its currents as if wanting to feel more,
to carry lava’s weight even deeper.
It caressed lava’s melting edges,
became one body with it.
Then together they rose toward the sky.

There was fear within them.
In all that brightness,
a nature that destroyed each other.
Was this a meeting or a farewell?

Were they living by merging,
or dying together?

The sea shook once more with a great convulsion,
foamed wildly,
but the lava was cold now.
The eruption had ended;
there was no continuation.
It was a farewell, unmistakably.
The sea struck its greatest waves onto the shore to hold onto it,
but the tremors weakened,
and lava nearly extinguished completely.
What remained were ashes, drifting like snowflakes across its surface—
ashes that calmed the sea,
that drowned it in a deep, heavy silence.

The sea now felt deeper, darker, heavier.
It did not forget that warmth—
nor the burn marks on the shore.
It would wait a thousand years if needed,
to feel that warmth once more.
This was a cycle.
Nature’s cycle.

One burns, the other fades,
but once mixed, they were forever changed.
As the ashes kept falling,
the sea felt how complete they had been together.
Even as lava withdrew deep underground,
the sea knew it was still there, somewhere inside.
Every ash that fell reminded it of the lava beneath the layers.
It knew it was there—
and that one day, they would become one again.