Saturday 12 March 2016

a poem about writing

This pure land
is not yours , not mine.
this nourrishing hush gets into you.

let the world in
through your eyes
with only silence to drink

Others sees your stillness
having no idea of what going on inside

What came from the night and touched you
altered the stars
from their embryonic web

now that you see what was'nt there before

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