Luck, find me nude,
raw on bend and knee at thee.
A real open door just to
lay pure rose upon this life, glee
in the core of a blue sun at the skew
of you.
To raid long over seas in
wars gods fear for your grin
will save a soul
and is wind soft on my holy last sail.
If you are tax, I am poor; it is paid ere
the move to your city
by your lake
with all of you.
You are land ho! to my ship
lost, high star, and worn out row, row, row
to what hope the life raft has
for six, six, six eons to hear you call me daft.
About the Creator
Willem Indigo
Let truly writing into the void begin.
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