Memory and dream commingle where the ocean meets the sky. The flux between extant and extinct builds the tides.
We were there, once, back before we could form memories. We had to cut them into sand and watch them while the waters rose.
The first wave, I love you. The second wave, I love. The third wave, love. Who?
Was it a dream? I love you.
A memory? I love. Who are we? Love.
The fourth wave and that remains is where the sky touches the sea.