Anyone who who has sailed the proper sea

Knows there is no reality.

Comforts of concept

May well see one through a blithe  life,

But delusive illusion

Cannot stop the sky

From occasionally assuming

The down position.


The other language; of awareness,

Is seldom spoken aloud in company

So each is left alone with the secrets

Of every soul crying within.

What is emotional intimacy

Save a simple grant of access

To those times

We cannot help but be ourselves?





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