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The soul is a boat the ocean sails.

Far on its distance and deeper within

It navigates the universe, a fin,
for harbor is the universe an oar.

As the shore of an anchor moors the tide
The wind-breathing of the sky inhales
As existence a shoal of the sea spills
Beauty encircles the hour returns

The beauty of the undulant waves bring
each orbits the weeping of the ages
and with swells of the size of creation
completes its renewal begins again

The soul is an ancient such mystery
it knows is equal to the seasons.