there must be a place where broken words go
the ones without a limb
not fully formed
not spoken right
not heard

there must be a place where broken words go
the sentences left uncompleted
the trailing words that never left the lips
the "but" and the "and"
that were always left hanging

somewhere between silence and speech
there must be a place where broken words go
full of stutters and writers block sufferers
somewhere between the "i love"
and the "you" that never followed
or the "wait"
that was whispered into the air
the "please come back"
that made peace with dying
on the corners of a turning mouth

there must be a place where broken words go
the words spoken but never heard
the letters written but never posted
the train of thought that crashed into the clouds
the words in the bottle that traveled the sea
but sunk to the bottom before it could ever reach

there must be a place where my broken words go
the stains on my diary that didn't come from a pen
and the letters on my thighs that don't make sense
the things i could never say
and the things i said that came out all wrong
all the broken alphabets in my song
that cry for salvation
for one more chance

there must be a place where broken words go
there must be a place i can call home.

I wonder while I'm sitting here,
typing these words down, what
it'd be like to live, out, in the fresh
free air, walking, always walking,
the world my second home.

I wonder, as I sit here, typing
these words down, would it
be like my wanderings, lost in
imaginations dreams, a journey
of beauty, of hope, of spirituality,
of self discovery, of enlightenment...

I have been told that the grass is
never greener, here, or in furthest
Asia, that we are all one, a human
family, extended into the billions,
all having unique quirks and traits
between us, but all being more or
less the same, for all that. That we
all are truly, one. And I think that
that is true.

I want to know what it is like,
to feel what they feel, to see
what they see, to walk among
them, to drown in the torrents
of noise and smell and color,
to bathe in a sea of silence, alone
but for myself, wandering
awestruck, and the whispering of
the leaves in a gentle breeze..

I want to know..I have to.
I need to see, to feel, to hear,
to love..

I gotta go. I gotta go.
that's all.

As the shadows began lengthening
I slowly walked to the sea shore
Through the cobbled path
With stinging stones under my feet
And piles of golden clouds floating above
Enjoying the whistling of the wind through the reeds
Inhaling the saline air, smelling of rotting seaweeds

On the vast strand, I stood for long
Feeling the foamy fringes of water lapping at my feet
And sensing the sand slipping away under my feet
I watched the gentle undulating billows
Rolling their silver volumes
As if to die away on the happy shores

The sapphire waters and the roaring waves
The churning tides and the feathery foam
Made me wonder at the horror and beauty
That ****** dichotomy Nature carries within

I saw numerous fishes gambol beneath the waves
Do the finny herds that roam
The fathomless valleys of the Deep
Ever experience the tumult and scuffle
Of the roaring waters?
Oh! Never!

Like them, I too floated weightless
With all the barbed distractions drifting away
Wishing to get a pair of wings of the swallow flying high
To soar safely away from all gadflies who disturb
And cocooned in the inner citadel of my privacy
Enjoying a permeating peace, I had seldom known!

Then Byron’s words came floating to me
Mingling with the cadence of the waves
‘There is rapture in the lonely shores
There is society where none intrudes’