Of rocks and waves

The water lashed onto the rocks. Not in fury, but in loving caresses. It hugged them, and filled all the gaps around them. It latched onto them like there was nothing dearer than those blessed rocks. Nothing more important than reaching those loved rocks. Nothing more divine than engulfing those grey rocks in frothy white waves. There was an innate urgency in those waves. Like they would die out if they did not reach that grey mass.
As if to urge them on, the skies split open with flashes of blue-white light. It seemed to threaten the sea and all the other hundreds of innocent bystanders who looked upon the scene with marvel and wide-eyed wonder.
They kept on looking as the sun nestled into the vast depths of the sea. They still looked on as the remnants of the sun’s orange rays left the face of earth. They even sat there as the artificial lights filled the edge with a dim yellow. But the life around the edge went on. Like any other day. And any other night. Each and everyone carrying a memory of this scene, trying desperately to reach that divine, blesses, and loved mass of grey rocks, with the same urgency and desire. Only these rocks always evaded the loving caresses.

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