Maybe
at the heart of life is a yearn that is just as part of what keeps life ongoing
as the Chaos; perhaps both are related. Subtleties. It is like the lingering
taste in the mouth, the sentence that says and yet leave soft ripples of
meanings, a warm fuzzy feeling from the bonfire or candle, a softness in the
eye of understanding. It sort of fills something inside and yet opens a door
for more space and lingers on a faint silent yearn.
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