Birth of a Poem

Eavesdropping on your observations with transcendental accuracy, the gleam of something half-buried catches your eye.

You investigate it as if it were a valuable relic, bring more of it into the light where you can see it, turn it over with a delicate hand.

Working carefully, you begin to chisel fragments of it away with your lead, your ink, your blinking cursor, until its true shape is revealed.

 

 

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