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Originally posted by Solarskye
I think about how lost a poem would become in a never ending thread of poems.
Originally posted by masqua
Originally posted by Solarskye
I think about how lost a poem would become in a never ending thread of poems.
A poem, born in the mind, unwritten and shouted into a howling whirlwind is no more lost than a child's silent prayer.
Someone will always hear it, feel its power and respond.
A poem in a sea of poems is like the joyful tinkling of pebbles on a beach strummed by waves. Each one adds a note to the symphony.