Sand castles and foot print trails, all your life you've witnessed the sun rises by the horizon where ocean meets sky. It's a cloudless sky on most days, stars coating empty black canvas. Beautiful, always so easy to forget how something so exquisite from afar might not be as magnificent up close. You grew up wishing on stars, forgetting they've long died, a wishful wish perhaps. Listen, the sound of waves hitting cold damp sand. A lullaby, in careful calculated intervals. Nature is such a beautiful thing. Some nights, it's the sound of barefooted feet padding in between waves, the wind a perfect harmony to your sighing. Restless. Nature can do so much, until it can't anymore. Wishes on dead stars don't come true, you wished someone could've told you that sooner.