Traces of goodbye
Vestiges of sound
stick raggedly to
earwax, vacillating
between the high
timbre of a sigh
and the ineffable
joy of wisping fears.
In the realm of
silence, human
communicability
stumbles like
unrhymed metres
only to rise towards
divinity, as any
great tragedy
stick raggedly to
earwax, vacillating
between the high
timbre of a sigh
and the ineffable
joy of wisping fears.
In the realm of
silence, human
communicability
stumbles like
unrhymed metres
only to rise towards
divinity, as any
great tragedy
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