I am hollow, I am stuffed.
With the wind I sway gaily,
Like rocks I unbend o’er the mighty sea.
I am full of straw, I am full of Muse.
Like pale-strewn leaves I float earthward.
I rise wondrous like seagulls palpitate.

I am a silent muted vexatious observer
Of proclivity of wrens and taloned rogues.
I am built to forget all that I can see
And trained to punish all that I can forgive.
I am full of hope, I am full of agony.
Like a wretched doll, opulence casts me astray.
Jubilant am I, when coveted by proletariats.

I am eternal, I am moribund.
Destined to adversity, averse to vacuity.
I am bucolic even to ageless crows
And a precocious terror of urbane pests.
I am no totem, but am fixed to poles.
I am a beacon cos’ I blot the landscape.

I am free, I am shackled.
I need affixation, I seek freedom.
Tortuous the path I sway, betwixt
The burning sky and furrowed earth.
I am hollow, I am stuffed.
With the wind I sway gaily,
Like rocks I unbend o’er the mighty sea.