Of souls that lost themselves in love, and found salvation in Him.
“Then God says, ‘You have loved until you forgot who was the beloved.
Therefore, I shall keep you near Me.’”
—
A. The Sea That Loved a Man
That night, the sea raged.
Lightning split the sky, and a great ship that defied the storm broke apart amid roaring waves.
From its wreckage, only one survived — a young man with golden hair, swallowed and cast upon the mouth of a hidden cave on an island known to no map.
He lay there long, unconscious among salt and stone,
while the sea whispered outside like a mother guarding her secret child.
Beneath the waves lived the blue-eyed hunters — the sirens.
They scoured the coasts after each storm, seeking human flesh.
But when one of them found the man that night, something broke inside her — a hunger she could no longer understand.
She drew closer, trembling as her fingers touched his face.
He looked asleep — serene, fragile, holy.
“Why am I not hungry when I see you?” she whispered.
From then on, she hid him.
Each night she came with food and fresh water, watching him from afar.
And when his eyes finally opened, their gazes met — and in that silent deep, love grew between sea and shore.
But secrets drown slowly.
When a ship appeared on the horizon, she knew the end had come.
She carried him beneath the twilight waves, her arms wrapped tight around his body.
Yet the scent of man betrayed them; her kin came, ravenous.
From above, men saw a strange creature bearing someone.
Spears flew — one struck her head.
The sea flamed red.
He screamed and reached for her, but the others tore her apart, thinking he still lay in her arms.
Her cry vanished beneath the storm.
The man collapsed on the deck, tears falling into the waves —
and beneath him, the siren he loved dissolved into shining foam that drifted upward and touched his hand.
He gathered it trembling, and drank.
“If my soul has known you,” he whispered,“then in another life, I will find you again.”The sea was silent — but God heard.
B. The Sea That No Longer Sang
He never sailed again.He lived on land, in a quiet port-town library,
searching through sailors’ journals and ancient charts for traces of her kind.
He never married.
He spoke little.
At night he dreamt of a face that no longer existed except in memory.
When a winter storm came, he died peacefully among books that smelled of salt and time.
But his soul awoke — standing in a white expanse without sky or earth.
A voice asked gently:“What do you wish for in your next life?”
He smiled with calm eyes.
“I wish to be a siren — so I may understand her loneliness, and find her again.”
The voice answered:“The seas are poisoned. Your kind is gone.”
He bowed his head.“I am not afraid of loneliness. I’ve befriended it since she died.”
Light collapsed into darkness — and he was reborn not from a womb, but from the sea.
He slept a hundred years in a pearl shell.
When he hatched, the ocean was gray.
The sky was ash.
No song.
No kin.
No life.
He swam alone, calling in a tongue even the ocean had forgotten.
He was the last siren.
C. When God Kept Us
His reflection shimmered in the still water —a silver tail, pale blond hair, sea-green eyes.
He touched his chest and whispered,
“This is your tail… and this was my hair.”
Then he understood: the soul of his beloved was within him.
Her longing was his own heartbeat.
Her memory — his pulse.
“I searched for you outside,” he said,
“but you were inside me all along.”
He returned to the old cave —the cradle of their love and loss.
Touching the wet stone, he felt a faint rhythm.
“I no longer need to call your name,” he whispered.
“Because I have become you.”
The sea began to hum again —
a soft song only those who made peace with solitude could hear.
But after forty days, his scales dulled.
His fins weakened.
Rapture turned into ruin.
He lay among the waves, letting the sea reclaim him.
“I’ve become you,” he whispered,
“yet I still miss you.”
That night, he lay among the waves.
His eyes gazed at the pale sky—then, slowly, his hand touched his own cheek.
Something within him recognized the gesture, like an echo from a forgotten life.A faint smile appeared.
And in the next breath,
His body dissolved into glowing foam —clear, gentle, like the ocean’s own tears.
The sea stilled, and God descended in silence.
The foam rose into the sky, forming a small orb of light.
God looked upon it and said,
“You have loved to the very edge of your being.”
From afar came another light — rose-colored, pulsing softly.
The two met like stars remembering each other.
When they touched, silence turned radiant.
They became a single pearl— white, with a pink heart.
God held it close and smiled:
“You have loved until you forgot who was the beloved.Therefore, I shall keep you near Me.”
He placed the pearl within God’s Jewel Box,
where souls that loved beyond form and time are kept.
And to this day, when the sea shimmers under sunlight,it is not just light’s reflection —
but the echo of that pearl:two souls once divided by sea and flesh,
now eternal in the hands of the Creator.
