Beneath the waves, far from the ground

The self is but the chalice for wisdom. As I am but the chalice for the sea. My truest self? What form is true. Eyes may see what shadows give away but looking into the light, all are blind. Cloaks to bind and keep hearts to ground. I am many things and none are false. For as one being wakes, another sleeps. They come and go as swiftly and grandly as the waves. Lies spoke and hence I sevre it well in knowif that all my selves are but one. The voices of elves as they sing in their halls. To sway man's work to his self alone. But those that sought and seek the truth must know what others shan't. All selves are true. For live as we may, we ne'er see what lie above our brows. The light that shines is the light that blinds ever onward. My truest self is in the sea, where salt and sand ensnare my feet. And the beating waves soften the skin, the winds play with my hair. Come seek me where my voice may sound! The water is the way to wisdom abound. I rest where waves crest and shells gather round, beneath the waves, far from the ground.


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