When you have stared at the infinity of an endless white space
marveled at the blank expression that sits on the canvas face
taken sips of a void so hollow that it's whole
wondered about the equilibrium of your cup that's half full
when you've idly listened carefully for hours on end
to the white noise humming silently at the foot of your bed
when you've got a solid grasp on all of these things
then and only then will you see why the mute sings
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