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Sometimes in dark silence –

ruthless as it snaps words-meanings –

I am free –

Forever otherwise, I am bound

by chains

to a world I love –

warm winter sun and

roses in shaded corners –

bird song in spring and

a lost cloud in the

October sky –

persons stirring my days

with words

without whom my mind

rejects the idea of me –

acts of love, acts of taking

and giving –

that make the days

the atlas I call

my life.

The toughest links are of

the words –

inept translations

of feelings –

caricatures of joy –

shallow pools of sorrow –

parodies of fears –

those words

bind me to an approximate

world –

But – when the mind is numb

of words, implications –

when images and colours

remain free, naked –

then I taste rare freedom –

from a world that words

have made for me.

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