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The Shell

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Upon the murky foam I met a shell,
Her calluses were shaped and bent with poise,
Mango sun gleaming, she smiled and wished me well.
Amidst the brawling seagulls’ ocean noise.

Alone in darkness I recall the deity,
Whose pearly folds were tucked in by the sand,
A rose by other names would just have pricked me,
But heaven’s shard sat soundly in my hand.

Though time and time again I kneel to pray,
Beside my bed the verses often linger.
I long to take god’s hand in a hallowed way,
just as the shell fit aptly on my finger.





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