Equator line

Here, now,

At the Ecuator line am I--


Quiet and still,

Not a movement

Of leaves or clouds,

Or waves...

I could almost fly,

Yet barrow the grace

Of a ballerina

As I move on the line...

Looking down in the dark

To see storms

Long forgotten...

Then looking up

To the unknown...


Too bright, and blinded I--

Any storms there too...?

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