I realized today while painting that I had said no words in hours. And yet my thoughts had gone to the moon and back. I had picked an argument with the neighbor boy, remembered a dream from years ago, ranted about my educational upbringing to an imaginary being, spoke as passionately as Levi The Poet and as loud as The Chariot, I had cried,  I had laughed, I had planned, I had been angry, I had been content.

All of this, and more, swirled about my mind, and yet no words had came from my mouth.

No one knew my thoughts, no one heard my mind.





Is it better to speak with no thought than to be consumed in thought and it never be heard?


but then again,

If the tree fell and no one was there to hear it, does it bother to make a sound?