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I

I am
a ship out of wind
an engine out of steam
a fisherman far inland
a mountain-dweller in the plains
a writer out of ink
a ghazal without a radeef
an eye without tears
a song without words...

I could do with any wind
- a breeze, a gale, a storm;
I want a boat and a rod;
ink of any colour;
a day of sorrow or joy,
that would fill my eyes...

something, something
to fill my canvas...

From these I shall fashion
a poem
a dream
an anchor
a beginning...

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