There is a sea,
Its depths a breathless
Weight from shore.
Its lines of laughter
Crashing into
A frowning sentinal of
Slate black rock.
It pulls a vortex
With its wiles
To drag unwilling guests
Within, and teach
Those who breathe the
Salted air to
Breath a heavy brine.
Enormous liquid arms take
Hold the struggling limbs
Till still acceptance makes
Languid a peaceful truce
With the deep.
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