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Feb 2015
Lurking in the bellowed silence
A nameless note fills the void.
Passive aggressive mid-tone
Too high strung on this expectation
To linger a lullaby in this remorse.

To whisper soft the fallacy in mind,
To brush off the redemption with
A subtle sweep of a hand-cherished wind.
Murky and visionless wonders abound
To the closing of a tether-less heart.

Be it that sounds play vital veins
Or illusions part reality to satisfy
The conscious limbs of a devotion
Touching the world inside the field
The fission of the split second.

And it was love.

© 2006
Neal Emanuelson
Written by
Neal Emanuelson  Amsterdam, Netherlands
(Amsterdam, Netherlands)   
471
   Ata and Ocean Blue
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