Round, glass echo tubefish-eye vision slick beside me,all around mebehind me, and before mea hole, through which normal lives.

Spinaker backed, too high to fordforward, I'd crunch before light.So to sit, on displaysideways to eyesI sit ...

An enigma of sortsbefore revelation, before I'm explainedhow I came to beproudly miniature in my manageriesailing a sea to nowhere;waves bound me on towards silence.