SelfPub: Through me gliding birds

... Through me gliding birds... schools of fish and dive into my chest, as if in sun-warmed water, sandwiched lesser water: the one where he washed their feet the God of Salt... the People around me mold my words and throw them, just the bread crumb to my feet, but I am no longer a feed on the words: my food is embroidered with birds and the wind... My life flows like a milk: I'm getting old just as much as the blue eyes need blue of the sea, as the bird needs the land to build on it!..
My life flows like a milk: do not depend on, who spilled his and what thoughts were fanned him with my then high, then low wings!..