Rising of the moon.

I watched the clear blue and white waves of the ocean turn into a glowing canvas that laid over the sea, a reflection of the sky as the sun began to vanish into the horizon in preparation for the rising of the moon. With the glittering sands like a sea of white diamonds at dusk, I began to peel away the crimson petals from the rose I held in my hand and watched them glide away with the soft wind that held me as the evening took over. I was watching pieces of myself drift away with each petal that left its mark on the rose until they were all gone. There are pieces of myself that I know I have lost and I know that I am not who I was before when thoughts of the past reintroduce themselves to me as memories. Those pieces lost, over time, must have been the result of unlucky experiences that translated into hollowness within. Now apparent, is the effect on my outermost layer, as I accept the silence around me, watching the petals fall flat in the sand while the noise of the crashing waves begin to grow quiet. I project the stillness from within and like the dimming of the sun, the tranquil becomes the canvas that overlays my exterior.

Seagulls that once inhabited the beach, spreading their wings in the open blue sky, disappeared as the quiet loneliness of the city amplified with nothing but the loud crashing of the waves against the rocks that lined the pier. I remember sitting in the sand as a child, not aware of how much life can change you. I will never be who I used to be, like the stem full of thorns, lifeless without the rose. I walked toward the bridge that carried all the people across the beach, from the breakup of life that filled the surface of the sands into the darkness that filled the sky, with only the dim white lights along the rails to guide them and the light of the full moon positioned above, marking the end of another day.