I went to the beach And watched my sandcastles, The ones I didn’t build, Crumble at my feet. The light where waves meet sky Vanished slowly. The shell I held to my ear No longer made sound. The cradle of the horizon. The muffled lullaby of the breeze. The waves that laid me to rest. And the water was no longer a shimmering blue, but a murky blueish-brown, And the sand was no longer soft, but a gritty nuisance in between my toes, And the clouds were no longer fluffy white, but gray, sparse wisps against the blue. No longer did it feel like my mother’s womb, But — gasping for breath — the thick air I first knew.
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Wow.