Exposure

thoughts

The thoughts insist upon their place
Nestled inside the web
Laid bare
Free to all
Yet tied to my soul
Requiring exposure

They demand my fingers caress
…no, drive…
These rigid keys
To bend and shape imperfect language
Into perfect expression

Exploding that first drab kernel
Into glorious, inescapable truths

…then I wait for the answering harmony from the symphony of the web…

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