Read the excerpt from The Odyssey. Here are the means I thought would serve my turn:

a club, or staff, lay there along the fold—
an olive tree, felled green and left to season
for Cyclops' hand. And it was like a mast
a lugger of twenty oars, broad in the beam—
a deep-sea-going craft—might carry:
so long, so big around, it seemed.

i think you should write from the heart and think what truely makes a hero. i can’t do this for you. even though this is it’s up to you.

waves come crashing to grey sullen shores.

powerful and strong, it breathes and roars.

cascading and caressing each grain of sand,

a warm embrace between sea and land.

high above, a seagull soars high.

wings of purity it spreads to fly.

battling high against darkened cloud,

in a wind that blows fiercely, flying graceful and proud.

beneath, the sand is soft and warm.

sculpted by nature, it's weathered the storm.

a passionate battle between calmness and rage,

a new chapter's beginning; don't turn the last page.

i listen again to the whispering waves,

music of nature calming and brave.

its power unknown, its stillness untamed,

mysterious and magical, a treasure earth claims.

plz mark brainliest

explanation:

dont know what all this is english this is america.