Sometimes words come
Sometimes they do not
I've ceased caring either way
When they come I write them down
When they do not
I sit in my own radiance
I find words clumsy
Born of mind
Rough and crude
A primitive communication
Destined to die out
In years to come
Instead, just be sensitive
Make solitude your friend
Quietude your lover
Then you may discover
The joy in a blade of grass
And the depth of the unspoken
~~~~~
(Spiritual poem)
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