Poem 51

The water laps upon the mystical shore
Swallowing the sand and rocks like prey
Beating the shells into submission before
The tide steals them far away.

I hear the crashing of the water from afar
Breaking the shore with restless wonder
The salty air cleansing my troublesome soul
Purging good and wickedness asunder.
Crash
Pull
Gentle sounds
Soothing the goodness and restoring
The failed body, internally scarred,

Forever in mourning?

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