Silent Running

When things get too loud to be heard,
Chase them around into the sand
of an hourglass
then lock them inside 
and throw away your fears.

An outbreak of life-affirming thrills
Will take it from there
Turning the forgiven autobiographies,
Slowly carved in the white marble,
into third person narratives.
To everyone’s disbelief, some blind fingers 
are no longer desperate for a familiar touch 
to find their sleep.

No more misjudgments for a manuscript,
the submissive dots have become letters
And the mild temples above,
A worshipping  force of nature,
Capitalized  thoughts running  deep.

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