Wednesday, August 5, 2009


The storm suspicously lingers
By the nearby shore
From the essence within
Such emotions shall pour
Every tempest has its own heart
Upon observation it reveals
Inner most thoughts although inanimate
Coming out in the way that it feels
Here at the crest where it slightly forms
Far from where the tides mark
In the form of what it shall be
The spirit of the great white shark
Not meant for all to see
Only a chosen few
Within the clutches of its cloud formed teeth
Shall it attempt its coup
Unto all that lies beneath

© 2009 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

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