Philosophical poem



An old owl or a swallow in flight think of the stars to be round eyes.
The stars are neither theirs nor a wizard's. 
I am an old owl spellbound by nights.
I am a young swallow with love in my heart.
I jump over the clouds' shoulders somewhere high.
The woods are not forever of the owls' or mine.
The clouds don't forever bind a spell to the swallows' minds.
Hi, sky! Leaves are born in buds.
Sky! You look down but they look up.
Neither nights nor days are forever theirs or mine.
Owls are birds but they don't fly fast.
Swallows fly miles but they don't dive.
Fish dive but the waters are not forever theirs or mine.

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