Gulls do swim throughout the sky
As sailing boats have learned to fly.
Shells are speckled memories
Which dot the seaweed-laden quarries.
What is seaweed- but mermaid hair?
Left behind from when they were there
To bind seeking hearts forever to this place,
To pull them in with wantonly grace,
To secure their darkened spirits to this land,
To leave them shackled in the sand,
With silence and smiling lack of reprimand.
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One time, the Activist was talking to the Socialite. In the midst of their ongoing debate, the Teacher approached. As the Teacher proceeded to tell the Activist and the Socialite why they were both incorrect in their musings, the Egoist overheard the conversation but continued walking by because he thought that they were all wrong and was offended by the suggestions which countered his own ideas. The Socialite nodded his head without any notion of what was happening while the Activist spoke words that attempted to contradict the Teacher, but they only came out as disassembled phrases of things he once had heard.
It was then that the Peacemonger passed by and secured heavy tape across the mouths of all who were involved in the raucous debate, but the plan backfired as soon as the individuals managed to scrape the sticky strips from their faces and used it to tie up the Peacemonger so that he could no longer interfere with their very serious discussion. This all happened as the Independent came near and thought it was none of his business but got on top of a box and started to talk about something he did believe in that had nothing to do with anything, and the Introvert skidded away at the first sighting of possible confrontation.
Many words came from the mouths of the Teacher and the Activist with a small, needless accompaniment of the Socialite who only wondered if he would be late for his meeting. The Independent laughed slightly at the uproar and continued his speech, and the Peacemonger warbled beneath the confines of tape when the Introvert sent up a silent prayer for all of them. The Egoist was already far-gone at this point, reveling in each haughty step he took at his own amazement of how much better off he was in his thoughts than all of them, even though he never fully heard what they were actually talking about.
With all of this, the Solitudinarian stood at his window, drinking in every word and motion that passed on the street. He remained staring at them with his mouth shut, being the only person who heard them because they could not hear the other over themselves or their thoughts. He stayed there even after they had all left in disgruntled, defeated strides as he thought about every word that each one of them had said.
With solitude, comes silence.
With silence, comes the ability to hear.
Listening harbors great wisdom.