A new island has been born in the middle of pristine far away waters.
Today I wake to see birds swoop, fish meander and foliage has bloomed on the blue sky water island.
To plunge in the invisible water or swing on a high branch; looking out is to see inside.
A walk on the warm beach sands on a frigid winter day under the golden sun, palm trees sing the song in me.
Am I walking or floating or drifting or swinging here? Or am I still? As still as it is here.
In this bright light, my shadow skips along, holding my hand. Now it nestles tucked under me, then it feline stretches long on the teasing sand.
A rumbling mountain grows to nuzzle the fluff in the sky. Is it that fleck in the far horizon or it is here where I am?
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