There is no poem here. No imagination to draw on the canvas. The lessons learned are silent truths that have no brush stroke. You keep them in a bottle, throw it into the sea, maybe the words are a line for another drowning man. No poem is on top if it all, the words are stricken with a fault, once written the true feeling is confined by a word(s). No poem, zero, finito, zilch, nadda, crack open the egg shell that surrounds the heart, so silent vibes felt from the center no longer have protection...vulnerability is innocence, is raw, and the filter is thinner, passing like Osmosis...Freedom to feel because of a crisis, its like a prayer.Birth sign: Libra
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