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The wind of doubt rocked and shook
Leaving its victims stranded at sea.
The fog of the mind grew thick,
Clouded, and cramped. Lost.


Lost was the treasure of dead man’s
Gold. Lost was the freedom from chains.
Every link binding another insecurity that
Weighted ten thousand men down.


Waters roar and speak ancient tongue,
Lapping at passersby ships. There were
No sirens to direct his eyes, nor were
There leviathan, kraken, or kelpie.


Only was a tunnel found among the seas.
A tunnel to hidden treasure, unclaimed land;
A swashbuckler’s secret sanctuary. Lost.
But found among the malicious storms.




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