Her mirky depths, a dangerous cradle. Her wrath, powerful and deadly. Yet we are all drawn to her, and at the water's edge we stand in the folds of dusk, watching in silence as a blood red veil sweeps across the champagne sand. Her voice is filled with a thousand whispers of those lost to her depths long ago; a soft bedtime story, a pirate's lullabye.
Whispering black sand shimmers beneath our bare feet, marking our paths along the shoreline. It is Halloween night, and the beach is deserted; alone, we hear the last mournful cries of the gulls as the blood-red sun sinks behind a jagged horizon, melting into the ebony shore. Yet, in the moment before the sun sets, dusk shudders. Those who are lost rise and turn their tattered faces to the dying sun, watching for eternity the world washed away from them by a cold and indifferent mother; the sea.
The sea has swallowed many stories, but there are those who have survived her wrath to tell by firelight how the ghostly legions of the dead walk the ocean floor in search of the night sky, the stars, and the memory of life above the surface of an unforgiving and depthless grave.
At the water's verge there stands a shadow, an imprinted memory of one who waits eternally for the lost. In the whispers of waves brushing the shore their voices call, and the perfect light of a new moon they walk forever along a dark and empty shore in search of nothing.
Whispering black sand shimmers beneath our bare feet, marking our paths along the shoreline. It is Halloween night, and the beach is deserted; alone, we hear the last mournful cries of the gulls as the blood-red sun sinks behind a jagged horizon, melting into the ebony shore. Yet, in the moment before the sun sets, dusk shudders. Those who are lost rise and turn their tattered faces to the dying sun, watching for eternity the world washed away from them by a cold and indifferent mother; the sea.
The sea has swallowed many stories, but there are those who have survived her wrath to tell by firelight how the ghostly legions of the dead walk the ocean floor in search of the night sky, the stars, and the memory of life above the surface of an unforgiving and depthless grave.
At the water's verge there stands a shadow, an imprinted memory of one who waits eternally for the lost. In the whispers of waves brushing the shore their voices call, and the perfect light of a new moon they walk forever along a dark and empty shore in search of nothing.
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