Thought.
Damn I'm not in the sleep mode yet.
Feeling wistful somehow. =
The soul longs to take flight.
How long can I last?
Sadness lingers.
A weakling I am.
Help me be strong.
Silence is his canvas,
the voices his paint,
and the baton his brush.
One gesture sends it spinning.
Awe inspiring color and sound.
An ever-changing masterpiece
in the throat of God.
(written by CyndiLovesPiccolo)
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