The perfect shell

Frothy white wave-fangs bite at the air,
their gleaming anger shocking the darkness.

Wind waging war on water, ripping it bare,
maniacally muscling stacks of cascading chaos.

Unrelenting, the storm persisting, wickedly wrapped
in night's blackest cloak, the sun choked,

In a tumultuous mad sand tumble, tearing shore's grasp,
An incensed sea spews salty hiss, cursing wind’s hold.

Deeper, in the violent silent fury of the sea belly,
Broken shell bits are hurled from their watery world.

Sea strikes the shore, Hell’s hammer heaving heavily,
A shattered battered shell-path torturously unfurled.

Blight of broken pieces, delighting Hades’ gloom,
Stretches away, a meandering memorial to stories untold.

There in the destruction, defying Hell’s doom,
One perfect shell glowing, showing a heavenly gold.

Light in the dark, perfection in imperfection, shines,
Giving new hope and promise to a storm ravaged place.

The perfect shell, brushed by angels, by God’s fire,
Testifies that when the sun rises, all will blaze.

The blowing sands and storms of time will refine,
The cracked splintered bits becoming something more.

Through storms, trusting, withstanding for a time,
Made whole and holy, dazzling treasures on the shore.