Thursday, 1 August 2019

Hum


Words tangle
And winds fetch
a growling creature.
After me, it runs.
But deep into the labyrinth,
I suspend the hunt.

To stare at the creature
straight in its eye.
The growl then grows into a shy cry.
Shy cry, into a murmur.
To tell me, where my thoughts end,
begins the hum of silence.

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