Sometimes, my mind speaks in parables:

distant, short, underwritten.

Sometimes, my mind speaks in poems:

beautiful, crafty, unique.

Sometimes, my mind speaks in rants:

careless, free, naked.

Sometimes, my mind speaks in bullets:

blunt, awkward, detached.

Sometimes, my mind speaks in quotes:

“My soul has grown deep like the rivers —”

“The mark of a mature man is that he —”

“And so we beat on, boats against the current, borne back —”

And, sometimes,

my mind speaks only silence.

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