Fish are swimming in a fast circle somewhere,
so fast they make an eye in the center of the circle,
and they are magic fish, and the eye lives,
and takes in the majesty of the sea,
and on a clear day, the great air and sky, where the sun is,
and the eye brings knowledge of these dimensions,
and the eye becomes a mouth
and whispers of glory and greatness to its creators.
Here on land we do not run together anymore,
and we do not know of the wisdom we could make,
and do not know the poverty of our lives,
except in dream, or in the rare communion of words.
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