A distinct line, a reminder, isolated, ready,
detached from the obscurities of the primeval broth,
gliding over the ribby sand, ripping off eternity,
slowing down, then relentlessly galloping forth,
until another one, looking dangerously similar,
cuts through its determination, rends apart
its salty wing, flaps up, unfolds and passes over,
to be cut and superseded. Yet, with a sleepy heart,
you are watching powers devouring each other,
drowned in the sunset's livid gore,
gasping with frothy lips at you, going under,
surfacing again, blending yet once more,
spitting out a rugged shell, with its enclosed caress,
a little soul, a flicker dying less and less.
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