Actions speak volumes, and we want nothing more than a person to express all our emotions upon. Feelings of feelings from touch and such wondrous awkward silence. Words become songs unheard but seen like a scene from a script painted upon a canvas clear from imperfections. Infectious like sickness or obsessive addictions that's left in darkness numb without words.
What's left in the quit? A riot within the mind sparks fired hardwired completed with a conscious design. Heart keep beating lungs keep breathing the soundful sound of breath lost within the wind, that can't be heard by the deaf or death ended suspended in time, absent from the tick and tock of the orbital clock seen only by day and night. No sound from the sun, moon, and stars, but there they are. Felt and seen by temperatures northern lights Aura Bora Elis smell the seasons change. Such an amazing world unchained, when the volumes down.
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