When the ocean came to one's room...like Evangelista...

When the ocean came
As if she an italian dame
Turquoise...opaque...
As if a color
Hydrous phosphate
Of copper and aluminium...
Evangelista italian he became...
His barometer rose a bit
By his mentor's name...
A monk...
Benedetto Castelli...

When the ocean thought of
Knocking off
Slumbery mind
Italian he became-
Hanging brief
His football madness...
And...
His writing non stop he traced
In the ocean's 'do not disturb' interpretation
Of business of mind one's...
Soul, however, bogged
Into rhyme...that same one's...

Evangelista's
Rhyme
Into one made a descent
Bluish greenish
Idyllic space like...
And
That insignificant one...
Compared to the vast ocean
Just recalled
'Noi viviamo sommersi nel fondo
d'un pelago d'aria...'
As if
That one
Felt fully submerged
At the bottom of an oceanic fresh air...

And He
The One
Smiled...

he smiled too...
Blessed...

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