Beneath the waves, where secrets slumber,
The golden claw preens, a shimmering wonder.
Not a crustacean, but a guardian of the abyss.
Conspirators speak in hushed tones, fear in their eyes.
"It hides the truth of tides turning," they say,
"In its gilded shell, a treasure of thought—lost!"
Eyes wide with paranoia, they craft their tales,
Of lobsters great and invisible domination guardianship.