Unspoken, sentences that matter!

Eyes ask for a closure, Mind envelopes a distant cynosure. What is very much liked, No more is in the capacity to write. When a lot is said, believed and sensed, Mind blows away in unlinked cadence.
In the morning sing the birds, They wake me up, and forbade, Me of any further sleep. My heart ceases the left tendency, Patience and rightful reflection, Occur to me, While I remain a distant weaver, To understand my state of irony.

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