I have nothing
beautiful to say,
but I wish I did.
Because I need to
say it.
Even if
not beautifully!
Even if not well.
I need to say it,
not because I want
grist for some
beautiful mill
- beauty in one end,
glossy words
churning out the other,
to be hung
and admired - but rather, because I need
to believe there is something beautiful
to say something beautiful
about.
And it seems there is almost always so much!
But sometimes, you look at all those same things
and you stare, and you stare, and there
is nothing there
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