A World Without Walls
My traveling, checkered sky,
A dome I convey, this portable sanctuary,
Heavy and hard, but expresses greatness,
At the same time, anchors my quick travel.
The sky’s song in motion, beautiful to my dismay,
And I can only see the foamy waters up to the horizon,
Sore leather oars row through the sand,
Practically aching for liquid muscle.
Daystar pounds my head, rays spill on grainy grit,
Deafening calls from the aforementioned avians,
Crossing the silver margin, pulled into shivering silk,
At last, the heavy earth lets go, and home is a world without walls.
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