| He sits here, night after night Listening to the stillness in his mind Swallowing on thoughts,choaking on visions Drowning in his silence; the house is cold without her warmth It’s raining again, thunder clapping with sparks of lightning Sending energy to places unknown and walking in circles Another glass of wine, a romatic tale in his hand He reads a passage aloud, he hears no response and yet… The edge of silence burns as nothing is given and nothing is taken But as for his beliefs,that… |
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