There is an eyeball...
A petty one...
One made by another one...
To which all speak of an immortal one...
Using words to describe no words...
The child moves to the mountain...
To cultivate his silence...
To silence the chariots that drive everywhere...
It is a large kingdom...
Infinite and unseen...
No longer is he satisfied...
Seeing only the outskirts and landscapes...
And in taking vows...
Every hair is cut...
The roots grow deeper...
In the ocean so soft...
A destroyer with creative hands...
Molding the land...
No observer...
No technique...
No leak in the ceiling...
The home remains perfect...
Going upwards to kiss grass...
Grass that kisses clouds...
And clouds that kiss a clear way...
For one and not all...
But for all a balanced molecule...
Broken while stranded together...
Making treasure out of the junk...
And drinking water from the moat, in the kingdom...
doM
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