I am a part of the
of soul water, salty and aggressive.
I splash against old, boring rocks.
White foam, a mind's acid.
I feel the impuls coming along
It is a long endurance to be centered in small passages.
How can I contain all the nourishments
the big sea needs so desperatly
to be unloaded at an unknown harbor,
a quest of fruitful labor.
I contemplate the depths of my riverbed
down there I empty my soul.
Prisoner of wars of the mind.
All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Simone Goertz.Published on e-Stories.org on 05/21/2022.
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