From my seat I see the fields move by,
coulours strong- it's been a long, long time.
It's the first time I see summer on the Westhill.
I lean back and let my eyes just go
floating now where they want to float.
They seem to take to the horizon.
Now I know there is a world beyond
the small place I was coming from.
I feel at home here in the middle of nowhere.
I will never know the names
of these places that I travel through
to reach the coastline-
I've been told I will be there in time.

Please oceancloud,
let there be no storm on the crossing below.

And thus it was spoken, and thus it was written,
inscribed upon a shining disk of light. Such it is.

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