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Finn Mar 2019
Questions are meant to be asked, answered, pondered, perhaps even forgotten in the sands of time.

But

What if

They're not?

Maybe questions aren't meant to be answered

Prayers not to be heard

Aren't to be thought, said, pondered...

What if....

What a curious thought that is.
Finn Mar 2019
It was a dance, a game, that I didn't know.

Were we swirling and spinning and pressing close,

Making hushed praises and whispering promises?

Were we playing chess or cards or even checkers, in silent bemusement?

Perhaps we weren't singing or swaying or moving pieces upon boards, crying 'checkmate!' as soon as we were able

Maybe it was something completely different

Were there no musical tunes?

Pawns upon boards?

If that isn't what we're doing then...

How do we move forwards?

Will we be stuck here, butting heads, staring, longing for something more

Something indescribable

All our lives?
Finn Mar 2019
It was a song to a dance that I did not know.
Finn Mar 2019
One percent

In a sea of percents

Still means something
Finn Mar 2019
Words weave together intricately,

Bleeding colors and echoing sounds

Creating and destroying worlds

You cannot run when you're but a word

In this world of words

Soft and swirling

Sharp and cutting

Handwriting,  names, places and faces

All lost in the sea of letters pulling together

To form words that form sentences

That form paragraphs and pages and books

And worlds
Finn Mar 2019
We spin and swirl,

Dance and twirl,

And yet

Though beautiful and enchanting it may be

We are just puppets

On strings
Finn Mar 2019
I can see a word

Or phrase

And conjure up hundreds of stories

Images

And yet

I can't find the words

To place these same images

Into other's heads
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