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Lost Culture of Arabic

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When hearts pulled tight together by need and passion are seperated by distance and stillness,
left out and loneliness is how feelings are shared.
And the surrounding beings are here, fluently speaking in what i long to become one with. Now it hurts.
The pain that is caused during a conversational tone seems a hurt that seems avoidable, could have been avoidable, yet such things are not like they seem.
Now, it's too late, but oh, if i could only conversate, complete and proud i would stand.
Seperation feels often when it is not around, yet recalling reuniting in one function, where moves are slick, hands are up, twisting as they please, ears are vunerable while speakers are ignorant, tines I have heard before surround wonderful air, pulling memorized words in which I couldn't understand out of my mind, flowing through such an atmosphere like calm water lazing on a river top. It can not be resisted.
We all share on thing in common, and I still stand, alone, longing to be more near as others naturally are.
I merely close my eyes, singing along such undesirably foreign words allinged in my head.
While no one knows my obsession, and I am quite lost inside, I stay in love with this.





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