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my black sail sets me apart these days, the stone in the throat fractures my voice this is not my home not this junk i sail on not any harbour i sail into no, this is not my home my soul is sick sick and lamenting weathered and searching waiting, always waiting i know my peace lay beyond these ophelia nights and i sail onward and i sail toward newborn horizons and veer off to yet newer ones there is more than one ocean there is more than this life there is so much more so much more and her eyes fell upon the movement on the shore..... shalome � 2006 |