Sing, If You Can Sing, And It

The Sea Isn't A Place But A Fact, And A Mystery.

What Misery To Be Afraid Of Death. What Wretchedness, To Believe Only In What Can Be Proven.

Children Play Earnestly As If It Were Work. But People Grow Up, And They Work With A Sorrow Upon Them. It's Duty.

On Poetry: Everyone Wants To Know What It Means. But Nobody Is Asking, How Does It Feel?

Joy Is Not Made To Be A Crumb. (don't Hesitate)