Atop the shell of a blue whale, we enjoy a peaceful journey.
We drift across volatile seas on stable wings.
We watch the fishes swim beside a spout that cures all ills.
We catch all sorts of spells,
from here, from there.
Witches abound the deep seas beneath the whale,
they cast their magic,
traveling in waves,
after countless ondulations we catch them.
Colors of all kinds abound,
brought about by magic.
The whale’s shell becomes a hub of photoautomatic display.
Everybody atop hears what they do,
speak what they say.
The colors tell them what to do.
What was a whale becomes a canvas of human thought and feel,
a mirror and kaleidoscope in one.
One sees the colors already in one.
The witches cast the spells that ondulate the air to one’s heart.
The whale is one and one is all.
On this whale,
we’re big and small.
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