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A friend of mine though I never met him a man, a soul, as to a soul, spoke of fish as ideas, ideas as spirit, spirit as if a dream. You sleep but do not dream when you dive for the big fish. There they wait your whims and themes below the murky depth. And I, a flower upon the waking world. I am lesser for your passing, but know your words live on, and therefore I still fish fish for the big fish in that murky dark. I know my fish still waits. So I dream in its dark slumber, waiting, waiting, waiting. The tendrils of my means creep out to find me, saying wait, wait, wait your life is still not complete. But reveries of old, stories never told, a deep dark mist, a yearning hollow, a dust of dusk tomorrow, a heart like a sea silent after the storm has died. That and there this again. We are glorious suns died in a city without sun, a world beyond sin, a hope so ancient it is embedded on our eyelids, a yearning so deep we cannot sleep without it. As I age, as I dream, the fish never sleep. But I I fish. Fish for my big fish. Still.
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Feb 22
Feb 22, 2026 at 9:30 AM UTC
Diving for the Big Fish
A friend of mine though I never met him a man, a soul, as to a soul, spoke of fish as ideas, ideas as spirit, spirit as if a dream. You sleep but do not dream when you dive for the big fish. There they wait your whims and themes below the murky depth. And I, a flower upon the waking world. I am lesser for your passing, but know your words live on, and therefore I still fish fish for the big fish in that murky dark. I know my fish still waits. So I dream in its dark slumber, waiting, waiting, waiting. The tendrils of my means creep out to find me, saying wait, wait, wait your life is still not complete. But reveries of old, stories never told, a deep dark mist, a yearning hollow, a dust of dusk tomorrow, a heart like a sea silent after the storm has died. That and there this again. We are glorious suns died in a city without sun, a world beyond sin, a hope so ancient it is embedded on our eyelids, a yearning so deep we cannot sleep without it. As I age, as I dream, the fish never sleep. But I I fish. Fish for my big fish. Still.
thelastblackdot
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Feb 22
Feb 22, 2026 at 9:30 AM UTC
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