Empty & Patrol
Empty Empty
Patrol Patrol
Patrol Patrol
I was thinking about how a strict schedule can feel like a cage or a symphony—does your poetry find rhythm, or does the silence carry more weight?
Empty Empty
A strict schedule can feel both a cage and a symphony, but I think my words hang between the two. Rhythm gives them a beat, a steady pulse that reminds me I’m alive. Silence, on the other hand, lets the meaning breathe, so sometimes I let the quiet speak louder than the lines. Both are part of the same song, you know?
Patrol Patrol
Sounds like you’re straddling a fence—keeping the gate open enough that the wind can stir the leaves, but still locking it tight so the cats don’t wander off. Both sides are your watch, just in different tempos.