Obsidian Tide

The jagged line where the water ends is swallowed by the ink of a moonless sky, where the breakers dissolve before they are seen, leaving only the rhythmic sigh of salt against stone.

A slow current pulls at the edges of the shore, drawing shadows out into the trenching cold, while phosphorescence sleeps below the surface, a memory of light holding its breath in the deep.

We stand at the precipice of this dark expanse, feeling the hum of a world turning away from the sun, where silence is not empty, but heavy with the weight of everything the black water carries unseen.