Today I remembered people coming together.
For thousands of years I observed them take part in the same congregation. The elders going silent, no longer being able to hear the same tune.
This unsound dance passed on to the next generation.
A stranger tells me to read their lips. “Words don’t matter”.
Darkness harbors truth while the melody nurtures my long distance relationship with sleep.
Go with inertia. Dance the absurd.
But dance without love is as hollow and ridiculous as love without dance.
Yet at standstill, we self-destruct.
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