Is it possible, a sandshore
a sandshore
terrified
by the unwhirling
ocean foam's embrace;
all the underworld
concealed
well beneath the ocean's surface.
All the treasures,
sunken cruisers.
Does the ocean still remember
of the things
that it must hide?
Hide them from the
hungry wind,
from the cold
merciless sunbeams,
of what's buried down below.
As I stand upon the sandshore,
the horizon
sees me weeping.
Yet
I hope,
the ocean's different,
strong enough
to hide its tears.
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