As the moon shares the sky, I kneel upon the ochre sand. The waves are whispering a tune of remorse, knowing that there's no one to dwell on till miles and miles. I try to understand a rhythm of rigidity, somewhere between shallow restless water currents and sour water drops shedding from my eyes. The crescent moon grapple passing light, while remembering how l would keep researching on the understanding nature held for the upturns of a moonchild. On hearing my high sighs, the waves roar, the way l did when the home that sheltered me fail to reciprocal my high aspirations of escaping. Escape, such a mundane word to the world. I repeat the word a few times, slowly, mournful, casting a rhythm to sync with the waves. The stars above today look too dull for the magnificent night sky. I straddle upon the shore, with sand grains attached to my skin, while the water cleansing it softly. The pitch black sky and the hinged union of water and sand, reminded of the year l refused moral duties and heard the squeaking voice of this ragging heart. The year l witnessed what despair meant in the real world. The same year, I fudged upon the questions raised at my for my great perhaps. The same year, l dicovered a source of redemption in writing. The year, l dared to faithlessly love a storm that crushed the grounds l stood upon. The year, l trembled unkowningly, the arcane meaning of escape drowned me to forget about the real world l breathe in. A whistling breeze captured my conscience and I traced the stillness of beach, untouched, untold, unseen by the hawk of stoic citylights. The tighten bottle twitched in my hand, a rustling sound announced that it was a right time to perform the act. Along with stars the moon was getting bit dull, l glimpse at its shine and felt a shiver through my spine. My eyes searched long for a closure, something I always looked for. The waves were getting calm and surrender for the darkened night. I place the bottle near the shore, the sand grain encaved the glass surface. The halo of shimmering moon fell upon the bottle, not knowing whether it cast a heavy pressence on the thin paper sheet within the bottle or was it me stepping onwards for tendered fading. I began taking small steps, each step forming a souvenir for disattachment, pain, abuse and removal. As l kept walking, the water rose till my knees, calling me to a home where my aspirations aren't label. I could see the peculiar horizon, a purpleish twilight of union, a dark barrier where the light gets lost. My heart felt so free yet fazed, unnoticed of the frozen tears on my cheeks. The blurred hostile eyes could see a obscure resource for closure, the horizon like a brisk crystal glass that could spark hues of aliveness. With the flowing water, l couldn't feel my feet, yet the water helped me move towards my closure. The water understood my motion and with my last very breathe, I crawled in the blue liquid of regime, with no second thoughts, with no one to withhold, with no version of delicacy, with no brief amount of conscience and with no remorse for the act of withering. Alike the water, l too once roared at the same land within the silence of dark.