The Sea Shell

I feel the older I get the more alien I will be to those around me, refusing to absorb and assume the societal vocabulary that narrowly and superficially binds and blinds one’s attention. Save those closest to me—Girl and dear friends—I will be seen as a fool, ignorant of perfunctory language currency; mute and dumb, aloof and weird. I shall be quiet and hold a subtle Buddha smile. I will open my shell only to those who will listen to the sound of the ocean. We will sit side by side on a timeless shore, delighted and patient, as the ebb and flow of time freely and devotedly washes and tumbles the pointy human artifacts and notions, to—in their time—become well rounded and smoothed

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