White quartz sand, devoid of life,
yet providing it's minimalist beauty.
Pressure drops rapidly, there is a deafening silence, everything is perfect.
The deep hues of grays and blues provide an abrupt tranquility.
---the serene implodes, relentlessly releasing the sublime,
cerulean blue dances erratically across deep shades of gray,
as the whole shebang begins churning--boiling mad,
It is cold.
You are not a crab.
I am not hungry.
Something quintessential has occurred.
We are metagrobolized.
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