Witness myself in the great well of loneliness
the magnitude of time spent alone
to think and think again
to hash out an old series of thought and replace existing theories

An unfinished idea
no longer a work in progress
a sequence of solitary words
now a paragraph in discourse

The birth of imagination, under the cover of cold solitude
warming my blood in objection to passive defeat
to reconsider elements of self
to reinvent the fleeting traces of potential
to set into motion the train of thought that will lead me wherever I wish to go

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