ALL OR NOTHING
Will Silence
strum the wind
like that of guitar strings…
Wherefore art thy
melody?
Ah, perhaps in
tinges of
solitude and frail
wings that soar
the skies.
Will those book pages
flip into what is real…
facets of memoirs–
warm-filled,
unchased by moonbeams,
unrivalled by time.
The heart ascending the stairway
of the mind–too sublime
to behold
all or nothing.
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