The Quiet Chaos

“Who goes there?”
At times, in timeless waters,
I like to soak my feet in.

Fishes and sea monsters fly in the after rain glory.
Kites and kittens swim in the seas and tell their story.
Who am I to gossip and spoil their allegory?
I sigh and say to the Moroccan grass,
‘I don’t want their fury…’
They begin all story saying,
‘The night was starry…’
Yet, in this mid day light,
all I see is…

I forget what I saw.

“Who goes there?”

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