• Vol. 03
  • Chapter 09
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Not Dreamlike

To be blind is less cruel than to be born.
To wade unencumbered through air,
is to swim in a greener sea.
These things; they are are only ever music.

The sky around my ears is an old sense,
we suspire, this sky and I,
and the sea, this timeless dancer
only in motion, only for myself.

Let this cold dwindle around me and fall.
Let a wind of water delight,
nurtured by its palm and caress.
Let me see again, and for the first time.