the most beautiful thing

24Feb11

when it’s quiet, when you’ve cleared your mind, when the caffeine rush is gone, when your eyes resign to the fact that you keep putting off going to the optomotrist and have made peace with the blur around you.

It’s then that you hear it, the cluster chord that matches the rhythm of your breathing, the pulse of your heart, the tone of this day’s hopes

you will spend the rest of your life attempting to make something that adequately transcribes this sensation.

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