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Nov 2013
I think I've realized that my words are just that:
  mere words.
I may have yearned for them to convey more than sounds,
  hoped that through them I could help others see,
and feel,
as I do.

But now, I think I've come to understand that even if
I did have that power once,
   I can wield it no longer.

To the more pragmatic:
  why I ever thought anybody would care or want
to see and feel as I do,
  is a mystery to me.

So I think I should go in silence then,
   unselfishly,
  as when I speak, it seems that I light fires in holy places,
and when I sojourn in some tranquil space
  I carry horrors with me.
If ever I commit suicide, this will be my epitaph.
Jon Shierling
Written by
Jon Shierling  Old Florida
(Old Florida)   
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