His inner voice spoke to him in the darkness
Too softly for him to hear at first, I thought
It was a ruffling of the wind or his aged building
Creaking eeeehhhh, slowly in the autumn night
Frustrated his inner voice spoke louder to him the darker night
Still too soft for him to hear and I thought
It was a cricket chirping or leaves rustling
Tossing wooosssshhhh, slowly in the autumn night
Pacing all around the brain the inner voice thought deep into the night
He consulted the gut instant for hours on end
He sat with imagination and motivation for a long time as well
Finally a light went on, slowly in the autumn night
He thought of running water and said nothing
To this I awoke quickly and quietly
And the inner voice imbued his wisdom upon me
Sometimes the best thing to do is to say something by saying nothing
This poem is property of Anthony W. Pawlowski and can not be replicated in any way shape or form. This representation is for viewing only and is Copywritted 2011.
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