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By Henrik Dønnestad

It came with a wave,
and washed slowly ashore.
Exactly what is it I crave,
beneath this ocean floor?

It comes in waves,
and so I held my breath.
But this despair enslaves
and I remembered death.

Sky and ocean rising;
And in full living colour
became a fine horizon.
What beauty to discover.

It was never down there,
it was always up here.

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