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Marine
The soundful surf Thunders under the eye Of the mourning moon And thunders again, While flashes Savage and strange Rip the ochre sky With long, clear slashes, Each tear, Like a spastic leap, Comes and goes Along the reefs, gleams and screams And in the heavens, Where the tempest turns, Thunder crashes Like a great… Continue reading
About Me
No one writes out of desperation. It’s too difficult. Writing is always an act of hope.