the Squall

I wonder how I landed here ?

and that is for me to find out -alone-

because nobody will tell

and maybe there is nobody to tell

but the ten 1000 branches of a giant tree

changing souls continually

maintaining thousand shells in turns

to lure the dold rums poetically

watching them swing from moon to sun

as if the same mariner sings all the time

to avoid the squall

including the one named the Bull`s eye

who then would I be

why then should I be

my mind cannot tell

neither can this body

but a knowing only

which

I surrenders to

now

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