Gnawing cyclones magnify destruction that minds cultivate escaping detection.
To see, stop and reverse? A diamond, obvious on a beach of sand.
The ocean that retains no memory pounds this path where we walk alone.
Trembling hands become artisan architects' to signal rescue vessels.
My finest palace sings; high octavian notes of acapela grandeur that blast the skies and; docking upon the shore I am not blinded; but see by light that there are not one but two bare foot prints imprinted among those sandy shores; trodding placidly, gracefully on soft priceless solely diamond filled sanded beaches.
That ocean's undertow has swiftly cushioned me back to my vessel. I am basking in the sun and tossing metaphorical millions in my palms toward Heaven to be showered with and catch on my tongue of fire snowflakes: children's delight.
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