The Howling Owl
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The Howling Owl

PROSE POEM

Rise Unencumbered Like The Wind

A Prose Poem

How does it feel, to be truly free?

Worry smudges the edges of my charcoal painting, and I use it to color in all the whitespace on the canvas of my life.

In some ways, worry is my reaction against the cold emptiness of whitespace. A dull ache is better than the dismal echo of space and time

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Paroma Sen

“Do not go gentle into that good night, but rage, rage, rage against the dying of the light.”