There are things that I want to say.
I want to describe. I want to bring light to what I see.
But I cannot say them, I have to let them be.
And so I am dim. I am silent and stirred.
What is felt is trapped inside me without spoken word.
I bear with and watch with my eyes half closed.
Damming up the river of things that I know.
Shouldn't I talk? Shouldn't I share? Shouldn't I show that I care?
No, I watch helplessly, all too aware.
Shouldn't I cry out and sound out the alarm?
No, I stay quiet, I do much less harm.
There are things that I want to say.
I look above, I look at precipices so grand.
Down through the clouds and across the swollen land.
There are things so beautiful that no man can contain.
Like a gentle soul or a single drop of rain.
Even now in writing, these things are diminished.
The best I can do is to be a speechless witness.
Sorry, the format is a little messed up. The preview fooled me into thinking this looked much different.
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