A brief pause, a halt called to keep time waiting.
A murmur on the shelves where the books
Know better than to await inspection. We walk
Past the door, knowing fully well where it
Would lead. The moon is out, at last.
Such a break, unknown to human minds,
Unfelt by human hands, and unseen
By human eyes, must make one shiver
In the all-too-perceptible light of dusk.
We, too, can make do without words.
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Soliloquy 
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