When the echoes bellow,
stillness, does grow.
seems to sneer at my whims;
longs, but for a glimpse.
of things spelt, things dreamt;
things felt, things meant.
Amidst the whirlwind of thoughts
and even when caught up in knots;
there seems to exist a page,
where i need to rest my gaze.
where i need to stop awhile or more,
to seek, to replenish, or implore.
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