Isn't it also true
that it is when one stops looking,
beyond border and horizon,
at footprint and temple,
when we stop listening
for the sound of dawn
the call to prayer
the thunder of the train
the whisper of the rain
that we find
that which is rare
that which is blind to request
deaf to wish?
[from the collection 'The Underside of Silence,' shortlisted for the Gratiaen Award 2008]
perfect flow and...just what i was NOT looking for. :-)
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