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There are many words which rest within him striving to be spoken, and yet with a whisper, there is emptiness.  He has done nothing to be ashamed of, yet he lives in guilt.  It is a tiredness yet he is restless to spend energy.  He dwells on the past, not as a need but as yet another distraction.  At least some release is not a loss.  Now and then he thinks of her and misses her, reflecting upon his admiration.  He had craved to know what she would read, what she would think, what she would write.  He wanted to read it all.  Because of her he wanted to fill notebooks.  Because of her he believed he was smart.  He was worth something…

…She may never again be a part of his life, though inspiration will continue to exist, if by no other way, through the vessel she has become within him.  Her spiritual presence could not be stronger than her physical absence has already become.  Either way he is fulfilled by memory and he loves her…

Why do you sense such uncertainty
Where does this lack of self awareness come from
Why must it creep in like a cancer
and devour your spirit so strong
your spirit so strong that it saved the likes of me
I have felt the tranquility of your being

When I walk with her
I get the sense that she is alone
I wish to hold her for this reason
I am compelled to believe it is what she needs
Then I realize it is my own loneliness
as well as it is her strength 
that I desire
She loves to be made to feel special
and it is her love which makes me feel this way
it is the tranquility of her being
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