A long way from love.
I took shelter from the wind at the base of the rain-wept cliffs. About twenty feet away, the fragile dark gray sand of the beach held back the advance of the high waves from the sea. In the dark of night, the feeble moonlight showed little but the frothy despair of the waves all along the shoreline. There was no one, no structures, no lights, nothing to break the long stretch of cliffs and narrow beach in both directions as far as the eye could see. Even the rain was nearly invisible, though I could feel it against my face and hair. There was meager shelter here against the cold of the wind and so I moved as close to the wet face of the rock of the cliffs as I could. When I looked up at the sky, the ominous mass of unmoving clouds stood low almost touching the cliffs up above. All around me there was the sound of the waves, of the wind, and of the rain.
I have seen this rain before. I have felt this rain before against my face and body. I have walked this shoreline before. I had walked many such shorelines to look for you. I never find you. But if I do find you, I would offer you my eyes for I no longer want to see our long way from love.