The Stony Shores

The stony shores settle as the rising lunar orb climbs to its highest peak amongst its siblings and cousins of shining light. The air becomes still and pure, never knowing a spark of worry. A cooling breeze hits the face of the shore, a welcoming chill amongst the warm and starry night.

Waves after waves begin anew,
A rhythm unbeknownst, through and through.
Patterns form from a distant shore,
Becoming entwined in all thats raw.

Upon the horizon a ship sails with utmost care,
Sailing along amongst the curls of the ocean hair.
Content amongst the darkness and warmth of night,
Slowing moving as from dark to light.

A timeless moment etches itself into the face of time. Forever becoming a moment unto itself – an endless fleeting feeling of a distant memory.

The stony shores sings a song so pure. As sure as the waves march on the shore – the stony shores are surely pure. The rhythmic waves become an endless cure.

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