Deep, deep, deep waters.
Still.
Beneath, far beneath the sodden
morass of this, that, and the other;

Where silence beats
on the drum of the ear,
or is that one’s heart?

Steady, steady,
steady beating.
A life lives here.

And grows, rootless.
The fibers of thought stop
with the light.

How tragic then
that I live in shallow waters.

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