Recently I have been writing with little or no substantial cogency, or other such clever content (and this blog post may very well suffer the same verdict). As initially interesting or amusing topics wane toward the mundane, I find myself inclined to write morel and interact less in general. What is it with the tide of interest of my mental fora?
Ah the glorious feeling of simple satisfaction
In anything, whether profound or trite.
Let it fill my store until I sleep.
Then fill me up once more when I wake.
This I wish I may, and wish I might.
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