beacon
rough rocks turn into smooth pebbles
smooth pebbles turn into sand
and the identity of the hand
that held the pen
when the long ink dried may then
be lost on the shore of a terrible sea
so write as the eye in the lighthouse
whose beams all may see
and many diverse in identical ships
will owe the life of their words to thee
remember
even the grit on the oyster’s lips
can make a pearl shine in the eyes of glee
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