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Words
after so many words, so many poems, so many speeches, so many lectures, so many ideas, what is there left to write? My words become arrows or darts or even bullets when I'm armed with my imagination. My thoughts travel in the depths of space among distant galaxies. My words occupy a space where thought cannot travel the distance between two ideas between birth and death between east and west between sadness and laughter between the ideal and the real. My words paint a world wedged between dusk and dawn. | |||
