The curves of sand from sea do stretch, unseen,
beyond the swelling main and past my sight.
A splash sustains the gaping mouth, a keen,
yet booming sound denied the glow of light.
My eyes adjust to tides in darkness, span
the sheet of beach for signs of faltered forms,
and try for chaos—stuck, restrained, by plan.
I search for life: a speck of ebb that swarms
with quite intense dissent or shores that press
each grain of coast against dry tract. I wait,
and all remains the same: a fixed excess
of order, strands that settle and rotate.
I close my eyes. The world distorts; each thought
maintains this scene, a glimpse of night I wrought.
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