Word wolves …

Sometimes words are like wolves skirting a campsite, stalking the dark woods. Try to relax, to unwind, gaze into the licking flames. Images appear. The wolves are near. Words. Why can’t they leave me alone. I curl in the mummy bag, under the infinite universe, in wont of a dreamless sleep. However, the mind’s eye is always aware of the wolves in the night. Words. Predators of serenity. Please, give me one moment of peace, let me watch the glitters above without interruption; let me listen to the wordless moon howling without your voice. Ah, darkness … breathe the silence. Yet I am destined to hear you. Will you go away if I write the message down. Yes. If only for a moment….


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