Oisin Vink Poems
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The beam of lamplight strides across the water,
Ebbing at my feet in off-blue garments -
Enamored with the crows,
As I pass here daily;
Trailing in my stride as if I were God.
Nothing is as it seems,
Once you have fallen a long way,
If only to rise again, softly, softly.
The crows know nothing of this, nor do I -
Neither, shall we choose to accept it.
To travel onwards, where the sky looms;
Rigid and sober –
The cradle rocks and festers.
Conceived as being happy,
Which it was.
Sweet whisperings of the mind’s ...