I picked up the glass of water
A ring of residue remained
I wiped the surface
The table remained
I took away the table
The room remained
I took away the room
Its memory remained
I took away memory
Nothing remained.
Nothing had been there all along.
I picked up the glass of water
A ring of residue remained
I wiped the surface
The table remained
I took away the table
The room remained
I took away the room
Its memory remained
I took away memory
Nothing remained.
Nothing had been there all along.
Yes! This sounds a lot like what I write privately, but feel I would be misunderstood.
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I know exactly what you feel. It requires you to summon up all your faith and put it out there. I always remind myself that if something has occurred within me, it may have occurred within someone else also. Then as someone who loves to write, over time, it becomes almost natural to write about the ‘felt’ but as yet ‘unsaid’.
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