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  • I found the shell on a beach walk long ago.
    Now, it rests amidst keys and wallet and shopping lists
    in a bowl by the door.

    Each day as I check out and check in,
    regular as the tide,
    I consider the shell;
    spiraled around a central emptiness,

    So many shells,
    so many sculpted wonders,
    are made around a hollow core.
    Monuments cast upon the beach

    Beauty indeed,
    knowing that to contain this core of sorrow
    such whorled magnificence was wrought
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