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I saw him swim out to the island on the edge of the lake,
and I saw his footprints, left in the mud by mistake.

For I was the only
one to swim never more

It always feels like there are places that I was meant to go, and others that I can never escape. Boundaries stop me from moving forward, and bindings ensure I will stay behind where I'd like to be.

For my whole life I have watched--and will always watch--the rest of the world in awe. The magnificence of the sights before my eyes. Sights out of reach, which merely remind me of my roots deeply entrenched. Earth is teeming with life, but all my time here will be inescapably mundane. To someone who lives spinning in circles, everyone else is a long distance runner.

How could I travel from the island I grew up on to ones distant and strange? I can not swim, or abandon my home. The islands are many, the archipelago vast, and my knowledge of that infinite wonder is perfectly minute.

What did he see there, where there was no water?
Only the trees, that climbed up to the heavens,

and what did he think of,
when he saw I could not go?

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