What I Typically Don’t Share

Because I want it to be credited to the person who wrote it, me.

Understand the

Soft towering billows of

Nantucket Red cotton,

Overlaid against strokes of gold

Which lap across the sky.

Ripples, round and brassy

Dazzling amongst deep

Bluish black hollows

Which bob and scatter,

Constantly intersecting.

Concentrated, yet, infinitely dispersed,

Shielding miles of serene scenery,

Blanketing ethereal mountains and valleys,

Leveling the landscape with

A universal route of passage.

And yet you float

Amidst this ebbing

Timeless set of tides,

Miles above complicated depths

Only knowing the explored

Maps of currents, bays, and trade winds.

As deep as the ocean,

Your thoughts drift.

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