Moving Forward

 The deep parts of my life pour onward,
as if the river shores were opening out.

It seems that things are more like me now,
That I can see farther into paintings.

I feel closer to what language can't reach.

With my senses, as with birds, I climb
into the windy heaven, out of the oak,
in the ponds broken off from the sky
my falling sinks, as if standing on fishes.

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