Again the night, again the morning
of a new day for dancers
and the other people
      
crawling out
of the seemingly identical
surprise egg, time is water
      
in a river that drowns itself
in the world ocean and I flow
with it, I can let myself float
      
I don't have to be busy
because that wouldn't make sense
but instead of lazing around
      
I train myself
to watch the sun
the smells in the wind
      
and the driftwood
next to me and among it
the right moment
      
to redirect me a bit
to who I want
to be