The obituary of waves...

Nobody ever writes them. 

No one stops and thinks about how they come to an end, using up their dying breath to sometimes crash passionately against the rocks and sometimes kiss the sand tenderly before disappearing. I wonder if the waves know they are rushing towards their end? Or maybe they think that what lies in front is a whole new destination.

But we all sit by the shore and watch them. And listen to the sound ages after it dies out. And think about their beauty long after the white, foam-tipped water melts back into nothingness.

That is how I want to go. 

Suddenly, in one moment. Without any long-drawn out meaningless drama that makes others suffer.

Not knowing I'm going to. So that I don't spend my final moments regretting all that I didn't do.

Beautifully. Perhaps in my sleep. Because my love for control is something I cannot let go off.

This is how I want to go. Like a wave. That rushes on till the end. That doesn't give up. That people don't mourn...but rather say - "Oh. That was a beautiful existence."