Every morning, after a quiet and cool and restful night, the people come, slowly.
They come from many parts, one by one or in groups.
They come loaded with food and drink and suntan lotion.
They drape their towels over the hot sand
and lie down motionless facing the bright sky,
worshipping the sun.

Eventually the sand becomes dotted
with a multitude of people at the height of the day
as the beach transforms into a hub of activity and commotion.
Here it seems is the point of convergence, where everyone would like to be.
Bodies glisten in the sun as both young and old chase after different desires
and dreams and lay them bare before the open sky.

As evening comes, the masses slowly recede like the waves
and the beach is left almost empty, except for a few romantic souls.
Eventually they too take their leave as night falls.
Now the beach is left desolate and reveals its most eternal face
as the wind weaves patterns on the sand and mimics the waves of the ocean.

It is then, at that time, when I love the beach the most.
It is in the darkness, with only the sound of the waves lapping at the shore,
that the beach is most itself.
No one is there to admire it or desire it for one reason or another.
It is at that time when no one wants anything from it
and therefore it is free to be itself.
It is at that time that it is most dynamic.

Here water meets earth and heart meets mind.
And I stand on the edge where passion lives like an eternal flame.
It springs like a fountain out of dark stillness and solitude.
I stand alone, at one with the beach, in pure blissful night.

Joy cannot be bought or taken or bargained for. It must be given and even then, the receiver must receive it unknowingly and anonymously. There is no I in joy.