The sky always boasts to the ocean; about how vaster it is, and how it holds heavenly bodies as opposed to transitory creatures. How its colour is in charge of the oceanβs pigment and how the ocean changes when the sky changes. But the sky is aloof to whatever the ocean is doing. βMy heart is the moon, and the moon is in charge of your pulse: the tide,β the sky crowed one day. But every night, the sky becomes heavy with its own solitary grief. It weeps to the ocean, and so it rains.