The waves exploded against the rocks that lined the shore of the small island, sea spray soaring into the air like doves, roaming the sky for a gravityless moment before rejoining the infinite motion.
The moon, despite only being a sliver of its former self, shone with the strength of a hundered men, lighting up the ocean and sending rainbow fractals through the mist.
Between each crash, the streams of water that pooled between the rocks ran back towards their home.
This happened over and over, every day, every week, every year. The only way for the perpetual life of the sea to stop was if all the water in the world evaporated. But even then, in another world, it would continue to happen.
I am as sure as this as I am sure that whoever is reading this is breathing in oxygen.
Continue to breathe, just as the waves continue to break.