Il Fiore Della Bruma P5
The little boat of my intellect now sets sail,
To course through gentler waves,
Leaving behind her a sea so cruel.
There is no smoke beyond our wooden surface
And moonlight eases a dark
Void of wind, rain and storm
Leaving behind a most carnivorous tide.
The little flower of my dreams
The littered hope from dank descent
The light fury allure of the bleeding of vessels
The water is calm of October.
To end what do we breathe so clearly?
What ends us to breathe so clearly?
Like the shape I carve to an unfound desk
Sweetest and purest; the stillness of air.
And of what nature:
Who flickers in sight,
Walks beside open steps,
Addendum movements while here I,
Gripping a rock, for the water is calm of October.
Memories falter when replaced
Swimming so deep in own delight.
Returning again to face
When water turns to ice?
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