than the sun’s own glow

Once again, a deep breath to grasp what it means to be alive. The echoes of the waves are tuned to reach the sands,
Their red deeper than the sun’s own glow. The shore has dimmed this time, and the sun fades into darkness. Once again, he ponders— It is not in vain that a lone shadow remains upon the crimson sands, Every footprint belongs to him.
A thin man strives, through his gaze alone, To stop the waves from reaching the shore. He knows the path from the beach to the depths of the sea Is long, Knows that the pulse of parallel places And the passing seconds Are futile— This road stretches endlessly.
He understands that the decay of time Is a deceit of the wind, That it is the waves The sea cast away.
The sea willed it so— And now that they have reached the shore, Now that they have chosen the red over all else, In the end, They shall return, And the annulment of the earth will be complete.
This was the water’s desire.

Another deep breath, lungs filled with water, And a sigh, heavier than the bitterness of departure.