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Tranquility
My writing desk
Is such a mess,
It ought to be that way...
Like thoughts that come to mind
Shuffled, re-arranged another way...
Sometimes I like shadows
Opposite of a mirror
Just barely light enough to see...
And from the hovel
Of blissful solitude,
I re-create in absence...
No media, -no TV
No radio or computer,
Making sure nothing else comes in
While I reconcile with myself...
Because disturbing a thought in motion
Is like blocking up a street
When I, the vehicle
Have already gained too much speed
To be re-directed or to slow down...
Nothing is distressing
As long as you are in esteem,
No mate, no haste, no flippancy-
Hurting, made in jest...
Can pull you from tranquility
Safe-little box
No one would suspect
You are contained by paradox...
It is the story within
That fills up the space
Lighter than air-moving through matter
Sensual, the living grace...
poem
by
Romeo Della Valle
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