dampened the page.

The words expanded
like a stone dropped
into a pond.

Swelling, each letter,
every consonant,
became something new
unto itself.

Unknown, these words
—a language
my Soul does not
understand. The hid-den
meaning writes itself.

You are what lies between
each ring carried upon
the surface of the pond.

So much more,
so much less
—the raindrops
magnify the meaning
until each phrase
sinks into the page.

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