float like the words on the wind

the sounds 
of clicking coming from
a keyboard
has always screamed
'home' more than any building
ever did.

it's almost like a dance,
a never-ending dance
that sometimes pauses
but never stops.

because it's like a heartbeat
or the steady rhythm of breathing:
ever constant, but people
so rarely ever notice the 
sheer beauty of it.

not necessarily 
the writing itself,
but sometimes the 
beauty hidden in the 
act of it.

i've noticed that writing is 
an unquestionable art

The End

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