Silence

I do not have a question right now--

How can I write a poem without it?

My spirit is still like waveless water,

Whose turmoil only would lift up verses...

Thus,  I am lounging in the quietness of my soul; 

I could open doors to let the winds come in,

So I could write about bad weather...

But no, I let the quiet sink in,

And listen...


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