I heard a voice that seeped
through the slits in the blinds
like turquoise mist dripping through
to fill the room.
I thought it was a familiar sound but it
ended when I tried to grasp it with my hands
only to feel the grayness of humidity
inside my pores.
I gave it a name, only to discover that
it was called nothing, and everything,
an echo that reverberated off a
mustard seed among
grains of rice.
I let it fall in the walls
of my skull, where it grew
and never stopped growing.
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