In a bowl of Nos,

One Yes could have been drowned.

That is not a contest for the wrestling ground.

 

This moment has created a world of its own,

distant from the gray past

that can no longer embrace colours.

 

Eyes are truly ahead of me.

Ears picking whispers from the past and present.

Head no longer of a victim of dithering.

 

In that one deep bowl of Nos,

my one Yes could have stood out,

loud, bright, truly differentiated.

 

So I have watched that one Yes drown,

to adorn the belly of the sea.

So I will say Yes again,

like the endless waves of the sea.

 

 

 

Written from the text prompt of Hour 15.