THE SHELL:

Prostrate upon satin beach you lie,

Ordered by god´s daunting finger from the sky,

Pinky hues of sunset dance,

Slowly, the wind & night advance,

Covering your spiral being in lonely black,

You cower beneath the starry shack,

Gripping grainy fingers, for the love of being,

Cold, hard enamel, the price of not seeing,

Bejeweled, perfect in your own right,

Missing beneath ocean´s  heart at first light.