The Vast Sky

       I still cannot cross this vast sky, this vast sky vaster than the sea.  He sees like a bird, shaking its feathers, this internal beast of mine, like the sun in the distance, far out in the distance, like the sun, sinking halfway into the sea. 

       Because I am in motion, and motion a testament to its own beauty, the river is sunlight, beaming nowhere, beaming from itself like a rose.  

       I think, a pigment in the imagination of another man, the beast that is no more, what comes of the imagination in this vast sky, this vast sky vaster than the shore?