Ode

Free fly the seagulls, they're white on the geometrical spatial line of many many lands, plumed voyagers, noble gipsies, nomads only at the price of their plumes, vanishing at the surface of the water on the vertex of dots. Far away, far away in time he had a body and a mouth far away, far away in time beyond the opaque padded border line free fly the seagulls... Grey silent sky, flight of gulls skimming over the sea. I miss...