The Poet Inarticulate

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In times like these I am the poet most inarticulate.

The words so daily present on the tip of my tongue whir like warring hummingbirds in the air above me just out of reach.

But there are no languages that divinity does not understand.
It is a constant interpreter of the unsaid and unseen,
a spirit that speaks when I am struck dumb by circumstance, however distressing the scene.

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