I stand here, feeling the water washing over my feet, watching the waves come towards me. The water is dark, making the crests of the waves seem even whiter. In the twilight, I can barely tell where the ocean ends and the sky begins.

I feel the sand shifting, moving as the wave retreats, changing every second. I dig my feet in, trying to make a mark, but the next wave comes and washes every evidence that I was ever there away. It is like the tide of life, relentless, always changing, unsympathetic to feelings and desires.

The waves reach for me with long, white fingers, only to fall back again. They continue their futile cycle of reaching and retreating, never giving up, never despairing. They give me hope.