the last three months have been a blur of activity
good activity
but an awful lot of it
and I have a passionate thirst
a smudge of a memory
an ache hard on my heart
a deepening need
to pass through a day
without passing it by
taking time to watch
the slow dance of dust in the sun
the contemplative in me
almost strangled
but still alive
craves the quiet of the now
and I am longing to touch
the seamless garment of silence
to enter a place of stillness
letting out noises become a distant hum
and listen not with my ears
but with my heart
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