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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield


The world is becoming quiet.
I can hear my thoughts.
I can hear flowers speaking.
Lightning doesn’t frighten me
I don’t have to listen to people
crying at funerals.
Creaking doors don’t need oil.
The wind is whispering.
Things that roar, hum.

I sleep undisturbed,
but I am listening more than ever.
Tuning in
to the magic of every sound,
and shushing people
so I can hear more.
Some think my hearing is acute.
The secret is,
the amplitude of my heart
is turned up.

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