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Poetry

Free Verse: The Art of Writing

The word is born out of the silence, so the beginning of writing is to master the pause.

I write, as if stretching my limbs, numb after a long sleep.

The awakening of the word is like the action of light, which effortlessly manifests the hidden.

I write, as if climbing a steep rock wall where the foot of man has never dug in.

The land of the word is an anti-labyrinth: the paths are scattered, yet each of them leads to the goal.

I write, as if speaking a forgotten language that only the mouth remembers.

Controlling the word doesn’t bring the abundance that comes from a miracle.

I write, as if recalling an old melody dissolved in the bustle, remaining only as a longing for eternity.

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