CHRISTIAN HOPE

In my collection of treasures lie many wonders, but one stands apart like a lighthouse piercing a foggy night: a smooth, spiraled shell I found on a sun-kissed shore. To hold it in my palm is to cradle a piece of the ocean’s soul, an artifact of its timeless dance with the moon, the exterior glimmers like liquid alabaster, reflecting the sun’s warm embrace, while the inner chamber swirls with hues of blush pink and soft pearl, reminiscent of a delicate sunset melting into the horizon.

This shell is a portal to lost tides and ancient secrets. When I press it close to ear, I can hear the whispers of the sea- gentle murmurs of distant waves and the laughter of children playing along the shore. It’s as if I am holding a memory of the ocean’s heartbeat, a reminder that life ebbs and flows like the tides.

From afar, it seems just a shell, yet up close, it unfurls tales of resilience and beauty. Each ridge and curve tells a story, a poem molded by the embrace of water. This humble reminder of nature’s artistry sits on my shelf, an anchor in a world of chaos, continually inviting me to listen to the whispers of the universe, urging me to remember the magic that resides in the simplest of things.