Behold! A King is born.

At night, the scorching sun, that over powers the air and is slave to no one but its glorious magnificence, is fast asleep.
It is only then, in its absence, that the sea dares to become king.
The waves roll higher and crash louder. They command an authority previously etiolated by their secondary role to the sun. All the while, the infinite vastness of the canvas that is the sky, has been reduced to a mere spectator adorned with stars. It is a thick blanket with just enough holes in it to allow the vivid light of heaven to shine through.
The sand, previously hard at work to stay grounded, succumbs to an evening of dancing inspired by a saucier, cheekier, rhythm divine produced by the waves. The air an assistant and carrier of the amplified sound through the cool night air. The sand mingles with seashells and welcomes all that has fallen from the glorious new king’s grace.
Awakened by all the chaos, the sun stretches its rays of light. Forcing the night blue sky to morph into a spectrum of color as a form of remorse for its poor behavior. The sun expels the moon and beseeches it to return when it is summoned once again at sunset. The order of the day that was once abandoned by all except the sleeping sun is now restored.