I am void,
Dark, formless, utterly destroyed.
Why not believe then? Why not yet
Anchor thy frailty there, where man
Hath moored and rested? Ask the sea
At midnight, when the crisp slope waves
After the tempest, rib and fret
The broad-imbasèd beach, why he
Slumbers not like a mountain tarn?
KeywordsAmid Assimilation Beach Posit Trench
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