As usual the dreams end eventually and waves crash mercilessly onto the rocks. Reality breaks in. the disillusionment stings like the icy winter air, clawing against my skin my body shakes. Where was the fire? The once strong flames ebbed as time passed. Slowly the rocks eroded, until there will millions of small holes, perfect and round. The violent rage of the lapping, now gentle waves continued to gradually eat away at the flesh and blood of granites and once brilliant emeralds. Black skin torn off from the hulls of unused boats, there is no need for them now.