Every word disappear
Along the
sloping read
To every
poetry penned
Where pages
come second-hand
To what I
pen along;
A silent
say
Dart my
journey afar
It stale my
time
To think,
and
Fill
thoughtful inks;
Better are
the ways
Where
silence reign
And no
better, is the way
To be born,
but to
Emptiness
Vibing
eternal silence!
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