Passage

Rising smoke

My mind is waves curled with wind,

Is smoke that twists and flares,

Is leaves that tumble in a dance

To flapping slapping airs.

But when the wind has gone away

And smoke hangs up like string

And leaves lie still in still embrace

Nor moves not anything,

And water sits as flat as glass

And holds the blue eyed sky,

Then I am gone and never been.

There is no eye nor I.

 

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