We are afraid of the open places,
The empty spaces untouched by our hands.
Blind men scribbling towards a higher truth
Watching the desert ocean lap the shore,
Wanting only to bring back the tide
And undo everything that was ever done
Before us: we raise up words, and let them fall
Into the silence filled with noise, and
The shadows of our wasted regrets.
Everything we can do is not enough
And there is always, always more to fill.
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