The crest appeared as it had every time before this one... Under the head of the sun bent low and heavy beneath the pressing darkness, its fiery haze of red and orange its one last resistance to the crushing inevitable; sweeping its way across the horizon, the wave perseveres to discount the failure of its counterpart, too absorbed in itself to relent a tragedy. Its harsh, salty breath sprays indifferent on the faces of steep cliffs which bend to its corrosive will, their intentions far better than what the sea has carved them for. The battles fought and lost against the billowing mass go unbeknownst, and quite unremarkable, to those who dwell here on the edge of all things structured and safe, except for one.
Her eyes remain open in the face of the raucous sea, unafraid in extolling their fierce adulation for what most do not care to see. Her dirty, calloused feet hold steady on the reef, fifty yards above the crash of water beating its fists against the earth, its wanton cry for a larger arena to bask inside.
--------- work in progress
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