Message in a Bottle

Little brittle boy in burgundy
Hear the hum of the monks
The fat brown monks, climbing.
Blue lions lie in wait
For a stumble, a twist of fate.
Everyone I know has an arched back,
Some question marks are sharper than daggers.
The poisoned food
Was meant for the king,
I once offered a beggar a coin
He took it happily
And three of my fingers too.
Skies above mountains are
Never higher than skies above valleys
Nor bluer
Nor brighter.
You are a part of the background now.
I have it written down here somewhere
The important thing I wanted to tell you
Ah yes. Here it is,

You cannot change without changing.
We’ll meet at
The place that isn’t a where
When clocks stop ticking
And the Earth stops spinning.
We’ll open the door of the foreign room
Step into the darkness
And open our eyes.

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