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On The
Fence
Many times we leave
Before we’ve met,
Retreating to the monastery
In our minds
Crazy with questions,
Wonderings,
What ifs,
That incessant
Silent chatter
That keeps us sitting
On the fence,
Swinging the gate
Back and forth
Waiting for the
Quiet noise to end,
And when it does,
The moment’s gone
Time has passed us by.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
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