floating on the seven seas
reflectings of the solar wind
cutting through the ultraviolet
infratessimally

spilling, shaping, sounding
in the hot light of day
in the misty hazy dewy morning

bamboo and rum and mango - oh!
is this not our true home?

don't think about the past
don't think about the future
only the swirling whirling unfurling now

do you see that ship
bobbing on the waves
just out at the horizon
on the enormous ocean

is this not our true home?
where the black sand
meets the white cliffs
between blue and blue and blue
(not to mention all the green)

...

that was long ago
and soon the colours will dim
leaving only the black and white

what is a memory?