Confessional #18

Will.
an outward shove
of

Moral dominance.

I place my hand
on typewritten script;
expunging chaos,
drawing malcontent;

These words of mine,
spanning seas, galaxies.

As God demands,
every single spark
of human intelligence
curbs the silence.

And out in the hollow
of a voiceless night,
the stars bear witness
to the poetry I write.

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