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I wrote a poem on magic.

Thin skinned waters, drifting away,

terrible and bad things she says,

and I was on the same boat,

rushing along that great ocean,

playing songs and dancing.

Moonlight breaking my dreamless sleep,

I witnessed a light passing beneath,

the watery surface of paper-like sea,

a single luminescent jellyfish,

and silence became holier than music.

I wanted to break free,

from that rickety wood to dive in.

I entered the realm of beauty extraordinaire,

and came across the bearers of children,

and liberators of slave, in deep discussion,

on the nature of truth.

Their words revealed their hearts deep,

their bodies didn't cut through my haze,

nor did their garden extravagant,

but consciousness broke through the smokey glaze.

I glanced across the soul of a suffering man,

my eyes were lit with fire anew.

When the moon had vanished into a fog-like morning,

strange voices brought me back to wood,

where laid my best friend, her voice still ringing,

incoherent speech rushing out.

She screams, utters, curses, affirms,

her words, a curtain to a show that wouldn't perform,

and I stared, quizzed, asking questions that bruise.

She spoke until I broke her tune,

her rhythm and flow, now obstructed from walls

I grew for separating wheat from chaff.

I brought a flaming sword to a mystic's garage.

I told her of the suffering man,

the hearts which had revealed me information,

of beauty, uncorrupted and light flashing though,

angles cutting at perfect right angles, architecture.

The ocean is a gift, ancestors singing,

their voices ranging from truth to truth.

I told of absolute perfection, and on the brink of death,

the Self which Becomes by giving itself away.

She gazed unashamed, her arms centimetres away,

her eyes looking right past, to a lighthouse,

and drumming along, incoherent music

not meeting my eye.

What strange, stranger, she become,

not grasping freedom laid,

only beneath her heel,

like elixir of life inches from the lips,

and this wooden boat, a jail.

She sung again, a beat I grew to hate,

her hair a blue halo around a moonlike face,

so I grabbed her shoulders and pushed her in the ocean,

holding down her shoulders, her mouth submerged,

and her body below mine,

and when she arose, broken and ashamed,

the look of betrayal on that glorious face.

What misery inflicts she,

when she sings a sad song,

doesn't know or doesn't care,

and yet, happiness deludes her,

perhaps, unsaved is the saviour.

A ship arrived thrice as big, with sailors marked by the eye,

on their forehead, witnesses to the crime,

a best friend drowning another best friend.

Die and come to heaven with me,

I said, when she left, shivering.

The jellyfish arrived to carry my pain,

she left me alone in paradise.

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