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like those silent letters within words which inform meaning yet have no aural substance, do our illusions obscure ‘reality'..
how we blind ourselves to these! or is it that familiarity, that comfort which so deadens our response? why then do these silent beasts so perturb me?
today poses more questions than answers..
is it so within our innate constitution to complicate what is merely simplicity? I tire of elaboration, wish merely to get to the crux of things..
I have no time for embroidery, but like simple patterns which speak unadorned truth;
delay is a crime, detour pointless..
sing me the sounds that speak directly to my heart, my soul, and I will mouth praises for eternity! even learning to love the clumsy, burdensome, myriad manifestations which form the rich, unexplored tapestry of my waking dreams..
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