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the gunmetal grey slab of slate,

a seashore relic,

threaded with silver,

governed by tides and moon.

it recalls whales that swallow men whole

and caves where mermaids comb their hair,

so that it glistens in the sunlit spray.


weathered by sun and sand,

it lies heavy as a conscience,

implacable and true,

a link to long ago,

a place deep in the distant past,

where myth’s entwined with history

and a shell pressed to the ear

unleashes the sound of the sea.