The wind whistles through the flag staffs
and the lines beat the masts,
a thousand bells in the harbour
sounding the time,
the stark winter sail boats
hosting the ghosts.


Where are my anchors? I am floating away,
stability is neglecting my ego today,
paranoia cut my line and set me adrift,
what a needy piteous soul to dismiss.


I shall dream I am a dragon, pouring colour over the skies, cutting into other dimension, lands unimaginable stream past my eyes, before tearing times fabric to dance through past clouds. I shall ripple the ocean and boil the sea foam, then tease a volcano, before heading home.


The sun has appeared from around the corner again,
As we have tumbled around it, while we also spin
And swing a moon in an infinite fall around us
And millions of miles away the same dance


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