The Watcher and the Poet
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from some locationless portal
You, on the inside pouring out
ink stained tears from some
infinite well.
Word-droplets from a soul, cut and bleeding,
shout mute anguish through silent space
and pierce barriers erected ages past.
The first sign of feeling stirs within me,
the watcher.
You, the poet, damn the depth of your emotion
while, with numb envy, I touch upon
the gift, the curse
and the inadvertent revelation:
Your need and capacity for love
exceed even the depth of your pain
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