Sounding like a curse, Waves greeting, then disperse. A stretch of land, one-Pebble, sand. A towel nap, you’re burnt.

Child of the glacier, now wed to the river and seas, wear your towering crowns of earth with pride. Remember fondly your landlocked siblings, and gather up your hanging valleys. Now, run, Child, headlong into the loving embrace of the basin, filled to the brim with brackish water.

Silent collectors of rain and river, they mirror the sky's gaze and cradle islands within their gentle embrace.

Silent hunters of the deep, where steel leviathans lurk beneath waves, unseen by the sky's eyes. They glide through liquid realms, playing hide and seek with sonar whispers.

I have locks but no key. I have something that sounds like a curse but is not. A famous one sounds eerie but I am not haunted. Mars has none. You have one in each ear.