| Advent: Ocean | ||||
| The end of branches, the true beginning. The resolution, the climbing wall. Holy truths for heroes peril, all wonders and keys by sand beneath a burnished sky. The ship awaits, is moored and resting. The trireme or sloop or bark, of wrought wood, with metal trimmings, fine true canvas sails, an eye in black and yellow. The wine-dark sea, sea-birds wheeling, cargo shut in ropes below. A store of provisions, perhaps a family at home back to World A Song |
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