Oh summer
set this line aflame
where ocean meets cloud
white bobs of cotton
embedded in the azure
an expanse whose limits
yet to be measured
or subdued by Adam
go on as if forever
east to west
would I not be ashamed
of my own insignificance
if I knew his breadth
or where he ceased
let me be ignorant then
that I may never uncover
your finality
some things weren’t
meant to be known
by angels or men

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