Shining, they were, in the Ocean, sparkling in the Sun,
Escaping their slavery — their residence beneath the sand.
Then Clutched into Emerald by the Pressures of Time;
And tightly held together by the Ephemeral Mind.
Then raised onto the Ether by Poets of Stride,
Whose Words run Freely, Miles Above Mine.
To finally be there, Untouched and Unharmed:
The Words, the Blue Moons were, that Dream I couldn’t have.