I once met a poetic madman,
Who gives away kisses of smoke,
Floating with the wind like a leaf,
His intriguing thoughts flow.
He dreams of a sufi and a killer
Having conversations in the hills.
As he talks or writes or contemplates,
Down my spine his words send a chill.
The middle fish in the deep sea of the mind,
Is what he wants to catch.
To use its juice and create something from it,
Just a moment perhaps.
That strange looking boy,
With his childlike charm,
He treated them well,
Till they raised the alarm.
Who gives away kisses of smoke,
Floating with the wind like a leaf,
His intriguing thoughts flow.
He dreams of a sufi and a killer
Having conversations in the hills.
As he talks or writes or contemplates,
Down my spine his words send a chill.
The middle fish in the deep sea of the mind,
Is what he wants to catch.
To use its juice and create something from it,
Just a moment perhaps.
That strange looking boy,
With his childlike charm,
He treated them well,
Till they raised the alarm.
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