Alone, he takes himself to the country
And there he picks wild words, pressing
Each one, thoughtfully (between the lines)
In the pages of this book until
the words become ideas, which release
a dried aroma calling to mind others
What do these blooms cure, in time? Is time
A cure for an eternity of fates?
Carefully picked, words are what will
Outlive the fate of being alone.
They can say “I had a story to tell”
If you will listen, if you will listen
Chris Dalton's Personal Development Blog 
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