Attempting to define the essence of life's portrait can be daunting. What would we do without language, without words of texture and color to affix on the canvas?
Mind Carvings Mind relies on carvings to create what it thinks How tensile this airless life like a sponge submerged again and again its weight becomes its intake from all around seeks relief by disgorging First a sprinkle the droplets imagined spurring cups to runneth over to flood the pavement of fingers and hand to float the point of pen to glide this simple tool on water ever floating ice never melting carving its language signposts purging its past welcoming thought's future So it goes This mind shaped by what it holds or makes words but one tool of its amorphous lexicon ever faithful to be drawn on surface sung on air painted on hearts in want From letters to words Becoming that which refuses to be forgotten patiently lingering in the shadows anticipating its own discovery
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