Sometimes I write with the intent of inducing a reaction.
Of having others observe my experience
And agree with it.
Of finding support in the readers
in the hypothetical future of my fancy.
But then there are other times
when reception is not the aim
when the written does not need a reader
to accomplish its intent.
These are times when the written
has no goal but itself.
The expression of a truth within
allowed to bloom as a mere outbreath
of the complexity I've become.
Reproduction.
Those times the written holds truth
and need not be read nor remembered
yet exists
as an outgrowth of my being.
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