The sentence

We have got  brevity , a wit's soul in our souls

Like the sea breeze ballooning in empty pocket

Tickling a body, setting off ants of thought lines.

A sentence is a luxury like the sea expanding

On the horizon mindlessly, a freak of thought,

Somewhere , where the boat meets high waves

Touching the overhead sky, getting lost for ever.

Words then catch up on thoughts but are  lost

When they turn thoughts, are promptly gobbled up

By the sea. that kills  thought , like day's last mind 

Before sleep , when you become no longer viable

And so is your sentence, lost on sleep's high seas.

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