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Poetry does not come with wordsIt has its genesis somewhere inbetweenthe lines...the feelings...the silence...yes the silence perhaps...feeling the silence...echoing the silence... understanding the silence....empathizing with the silence...embracing the silence...speaking to the silence...singing with the silence...then giving it a shape...a form...a visual...perhaps even beauty, grace, dignity, charm...a bewitching, tangible , unmistakable, pulsating charm...that is how a nebulous thought...
