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And here I am,
Looking up, bodyless
Half way down,
Between the surface and the bottom,
Staring at that twinkling ceiling made of
     The concentration of light and water.
Totally unable to move by myself,
     I become part of the water.
The pond's head of hair is the nympheas' roots,
Innumerable gold fish are a myriad of eyes.
I'm shrinking,
     So is the pond -
To the point where
There is no water anymore
     And I find myself on bare land
     One more time.

:: drawing by Jean Michel Folon