The
albatross sailing on wind
does
it think to feel
the
weight below, the endless space
it
hides under the span of
its
wings?
Or
does it embrace
the
empty only because
it
looks ahead, sailing
on
wind, open-armed,
untiring?
Gliding
canopy of feather
ruffling
starless ocean eyes,
hanging
on, turning
Into
the silence deafened
by
wind, by wind, by wind.
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