Levitating
as my body drowns
mistaking water
for clouds
and that weigh on my ankles
like shackles.
Still
I fly above
the deep bottom
of the Seventh Heaven
were our wounds
burn
in perpetual fire.
In the meanwhile
sickly pale angels,
forgotten of my whereabouts,
watch slowly
as the gods send them
a swing
to sway;
ever so slowly
back and forth
higher for each new rock;
and the angels fly
reaching the mists
on a swing
where
from up and below
they finally glimpse
at me
burning
in perpetual fire
as my body levitates
in the sweet lukewarm waters
that tumble over you
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