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  • My words are fleeing.
    I must constantly chase them down
    and pull them back,
    like toddlers at a carnival.

    Some of them may have escaped altogether.

    I live in the silence
    where the ground meets the path.
    Yet the path, as paths do,
    goes on.

    Because of my great love for you
    I collected what words I could,
    plucking them deftly as they drifted by
    on the restless wind.

    Then I traced a story for you in the vast expanse of the sea.

    Let it wash over you.
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