The world as a vessel, love as all things.
They wished for their love to exist within nature to be witnessed by the land, the sea, and the sky,
and to speak their hearts in the presence of something greater than themselves.

To them, love is freedom. Love is quiet.
Love is something that refuses definition.

Along the mountains of the West Coast, at the edge of black sand and open water,
everything moves in a slow, continuous rhythm.
Sunlight and moonlight fall upon the tide,
fracturing into soft, shimmering reflections.
Like their love: unspoken, ever-moving, and quietly radiant.

Lunar Tide, a love that flows with time, and belongs to the earth.