He walks on the sea to sand line
He walks on the field line
He walks, he walks
He talks of the past time
He talks of the here and now time
He talks of the future time
He talks and he talks
I have little choice
In the fragility of the silence
If someone comes along
Then someone comes along
If they choose to speak loudly
Then they choose to speak loudly
Yet I myself
I can go about my day quietly
I can sit, I can meditate
Or soak in my morning bath
Or, as right now
I can pen a few lines, simply for myself
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