I want answers.
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My thoughts in all directions of the world
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Seek albatrosses, questions.
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You don't need to look askance.
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A good look is enough
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Not secretly, not hastily. |
wide open
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No interference.
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I'm not talking about money, power, success
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And not about the weather.
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I want to understand what our happiness is
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And our freedom.
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Imagine, I am an ear, in a red field of rye.
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I swing at will, I catch the wind vectors.
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I cling to them
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Aiming up.
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I touch the sky a little
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But I don't reach out even a little.
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I stand still
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Clouds float above me.
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How to reach you with a thunderbolt?
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Grains fly, stems
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Launch into the lush fur of your events.
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What do you live? |
Where are you flying?
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Where do you get so much agility?
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And I'm sliding up the railing of the wind,
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Cloud touching,
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But I'm slipping and not reaching out just a little.
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I'm just an ear.
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My ear is alive.
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Alive.
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I'm just an ear.
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Your ear is alive.
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Alive.
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Birds.
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How to get up after them?
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Knitted desire to drill
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Into the wings of a proud eagle.
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In a wild single impulse to merge
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Trunk and muscles and finally enlighten.
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But these birds are windy.
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Birds, of course, cannot decide.
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Up or down.
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And I'm single.
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I am a thin solar ear.
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Can I, the ear, go straight into space?
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Embrace the universe like a fat, hospitable relative.
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Chasing comets
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Spin with the planets
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And spill new stars into your depths,
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O wise cosmos.
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But the cable is weak and I am small in stature.
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I'm always dissatisfied with myself
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But a happy shaggy ear.
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I'm just an ear.
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My ear is alive.
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Alive.
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Shaggy ear.
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Your ear is alive.
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Happy shaggy ear.
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Alive.
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My ear is alive.
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Alive.
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Just an ear.
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My ear is alive.
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Rooted into a woman in greenery,
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With a giving heart. |
I drink her juice
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and she is in my seed the essence of all phenomena,
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But I am a hostage of fleeting time.
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The wind will pick up my fruits, scatter them.
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Where are you children? |
The most relatives in the world.
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Where are you running? |
Do not be afraid.
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Soon you will dig into the earth, pour with its power,
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Fill her with love to the brim,
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Rise, breathe, be bolder
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And bloom, quietly make noise in the field,
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Give the world my voice.
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And here I am again, a lonely curious spike.
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I stand still.
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I'm not talking about money, power, success.
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I'm talking about light children's laughter.
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Alive.
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I'm talking about love that is timeless.
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My ear is alive.
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I'm talking about the source of all births.
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Alive.
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There is nothing more valuable in this world.
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Your ear is alive.
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I'm talking about the all-penetrating light. |