Intuition...

Late sunrise; ocean glimmer;
folds of water on the shore,
curling and uncurling,
like memories
presenting themselves then a curtain is drawn.


Clouds thicken; ocean a darker shade;
writing and patterns on the shore,
seaweed and pebbles
like language
when memories vanish behind that drawn curtain.


And days pass; the ocean is a riot,
a new and different shore
with no memories or language to recall.
But intuition's light
when it was thought that all was gone.

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