I sit in my chair by the window pane,
Sipping a thousand thoughts,
Drinking in the passion,
Lapping up all the pain.
Thinking of you and the thoughts I have caught.
I see faces floating in the water,
Grinning, snearing, crying,
Sheaves of life in one hand,
Sickles in the other.
Why is living no more than light dying?
As the moon rises, my tea cup I drain.
And gaze at thoughts I spill,
Over me, over you.
Flooding the dreary plain.
But lo, my isle forms from a lonely hill.
I stand in awe at my ocean of tea,
And watch the moonlit dance
Of sea nymphs and devils
Loving on waves of my sea.
Dancing the dance, the sacred rite of chance.
On one dark day my ocean will part,
And I'll cross on dry sand.
To see the other side,
And the blood of my heart,
And perhaps, to sip the tea of that land.
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