The wave
folding over
unto it's self
Some times grants
a slice to the
eye
Truth of ones mind
so deceived by
others
In fact they do so
recognize in them
selves
This way no
headway is
made
The ocean
is
green blue
true color
Not merely
seen
shades of grey
The First Shrike
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem