xi.

Roaming the

silent lands

Each thought

echoes, reverberates

against the silence.

 

Water shaded

with the charcoal

edge

Shall I lay

me down on

that palpable

page.

 

Stretch this

out on

the wooded frames

Should we

spread these

apart, and let

all rupture

Dawned and

wet, across

this stage.

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