The sea is really just, water. Salt water.
But the beach is special because of the sky splayed wide enough to hug the horizons of the sea.

When the sun gives out the warmth to hearts that go there, hearts that are broken and left unhinged.
When the winter makes the water freeze the feet that try to step and go any further, to repel them of the hungry waves.

Imagine the sea bed a colossal bowl, cradling the entire ocean like a mother would.
The sea is then the dear child of the sky, and the sands.

Some people are picturing it differently, maybe the ocean as the teardrops of clouds,

Clouds that are always departing, constantly bidding farewell to lovers, forever being sorry that they can’t ever be still.

That no matter the tide, they can’t stay and watch the sunset because they have to be up there in the sky, moving with the prevailing wind.