Find your tribe in a Sea of Creativity
There is beauty
in the silence, in the stillness, in the gone-ness.
In the dripping water casting ripples in puddle—
who is left to see it?
In the soundless streets—
who is left to hear it?
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There is beauty
in the empty, in the quiet, in the ghosts.
In the burning lights, haloes silver and rose—
who is left to see?
In the winding roads, snow pristine and clear—
who is left?
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There is beauty
in the dark, in the soft, in the peace.
Silence is a commodity rarely found and never sought,
An extinct creature killed by advancing times.
There is beauty in its return;
There is beauty in its resurrection.
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(who is left to hear?)
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—beauty in a time of mourning (y.c.)