The Flitting Things
be reminded again
on the fluidity of our affairs
look at my body
this is a boat carrying
my spirit
to the other side of
this island
this earth is another
ball
that our hands have taken
hold
on a fickle play
what is this place?
we kneel
most of the times to
feel nothing
but sand and hear nothing
but the songs of
the worms
what is this mind?
it is a temple for words
where sometimes
all prayers are
forgotten
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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