The Passage of Fear
I stand before the storm within, a tide of dread that rises fast.
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I stand before the storm within, a tide of dread that rises fast.
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In twilight's embrace, where shadows play, Ancient whispers breathe, in the olden way.
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Palm fronds bend above warm sand. Blue swells break with steady grace. Jaco breathes through surf and trade.
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Stone ribs face the sea. Cold spray salts the air. The tide grants no plea. Gulls cut through the glare.
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