Saber, Scroll and Rucksack
How do I describe it?In me, deep down, there is some desire. Something hidden and longing to be heard. It is there, in me, wanting, waiting, and restless.The sound of the train passing through town, emptyness outside my window, except for a lone train. It's whistle blowing into nothingness and fading into the distance. What is left is the click-clack click-clack of the box cars and eventually....silence.There is a candle burning on my desk, I run my hand across it, and the flame recedes, and returns. It needs to breathe... just like me.And here I am...looking out the window at an empty street and listening to the sounds of an empty house and feeling the longing of this empty heart.When will I write something beautiful for once? I feel the keys on my fingers. I feel all of this. I'm so aware, yet so numb. And the more I sit and think the more I feel the lack. And such a beautiful lack it is. Sitting here I get the feeling all of life entire is waiting on me to go outside.
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