Winds face forward
and backward
and the night is young
and we are all
sailors on boats
lost at sea, aged
The Sun is different
every day
and the night is young
and we get dizzy
and sometimes dry
from all the light
The boat sways
forward and back
and it has space
and it has a tent
shared or deserted
the tent is there
Nighttime guards
against daydreams
and time stops
and dreams drop
and the tent
keeps the space
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