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Paper, Poet, Mirror

In a Quiet that is beyond silence where only Thought stirs the air, less than a farewell wave or the fall of Down lost upon the wing, I see no image on the paper white, nor the reflection of my inner sight;

this mirror lies ready not to catch my likeness, but that which I hope will tumble from my mind, making visible a stream of thought that now hides and only I can see until the flow of ink sets it free

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