How do you write the silence,
While you are still processing,
The ebb and flow of life?
How do you write the feelings,
You are still unsure to nurture,
And unsure to decline?
How do you write about intentions,
While you are still wondering,
Is it real, or another imagination?
What is the perfect way to write?
There is none.
It is your voice.
Allow it to whisper in silence.
Allow it to scribble aimlessly.
Allow it, to flow.
It gushes out sometimes,
Like some miraculous stream.
And sometimes, it sits quietly,
Like dew drops on leaves.
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