Sunday Evening Musings

screen-shot-2016-09-08-at-10-57-52-pm

Speak.
Speak new things into the dying air.
The world has become still
with the weight of its needing.
Speak new things
into the dying air.

The rain falls to its own music –
at once so familiar
yet unreachable,
just as those tides
of me
sitting here
thinking endlessly
endlessly.

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