In this dark unappreciated corner of this room
I sit patiently waiting for the next word to pop up
One that will spring me into the next action; hopefully a virtuous one
In this cold corner I sit
Unanticipated by the long quarantined Sunday
A day usually used for rest
But resting is not current in this existence,
when my mind is a constant flow
In this dark corner I wait for the next hour
Meditation is my refuge
This spot will remain open for me
For when I am ready to fill the void of why I don’t let it be.
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