Waves

The beach always makes me think.  The waves are enormous as they hover over the sand like a villain in a dark alley of a poorly made horror film and then crash into the ground; they disappear.  Pummeling one after the next they each take a chance to prove that they are the greatest wave to ever come out of the ocean, only to be absorbed into the ground they smack into without praise, applause or congratulation.  Foam remains of the once majestic water king and is quickly washed away by the next in line.
I always believed that our lives are like waves.  We humbly begin as tiny ripples amongst an ocean of a billion others.  All of us dream of making it to the shore line to prove ourselves worthy to the rest of the world.  Continually fighting and growing we make our way closer to our goal until we peak and crash down into the ground to remain there for the rest of eternity.  A lot of people have told me that is such a morbid thing to think about, but I still believe it is a pretty comparable analogy.
This is why I always come to the beach at night; it is calming and soothing.  My mind is at ease when I see the dark sky above a seemingly endless supply of water, rising and sinking to the whims of the moon.  The sun always bothered me at the beach.  I am always blinded and unable to witness the beauty of death and rebirth that is occurring before me.  I tend to go alone too, since no one seems to understand the symbolism of what I see.  But that is also how I have always been, alone in the world of seven billion people.