Has it been so long since I have opened my heart and searched it for truth, that I now forget how to open my mind? Silence, I have missed thee and thy vast, deafening roar; for all around me there is sound. Be it the hum of my computer's electronics while in my room, or the call from canine to canine beneath night's star speckled heavens.
The air drifts lazily about me, indecisive how to turn the smoke that rises from a cigarette. The lights of the city pollute the south-western sky while the eyes of thousands of buildings in the valley below wink in acknowledgement of those that live in this aging desert town.
A calm peace leaves me as indecisive as the wind, ever varying the degree of flight. It seems, when I try to move my fingers to write, they rebel against me. Only when I stop and let them command the carving of phrases on the paper do I truly write. I must stop and let my mind catch up with my thoughts.
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