Gone with the whales


  • Philosophy

    Gone with the whales

    On your face
    I see the trace of the days
    You have had in this place,
    But now those days are really gone,

    Gone with the years.
    Swept like wind on the fields
    For every moment you've missed
    Feels like a wound that really time,

    Time wouldn't heal.
    But you don't think you don't feel
    Until it turns into real
    And when you see how really far,

    Far is the place
    Where you have space for your plays
    Beyond the distant and grey
    Is where you find it's really gone,

    Gone with the whales.

    Human Race,
    Go with the whales.

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    Poetry is what gets lost in translation.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    Sleeves’s Poems (23)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
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    album 0
    turquoise 1
    delusion 0
    cold 1
    wife 0
    imprinted 0
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    emerge 1
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    Life that never was 3
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    I awake 5
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    Fade 1