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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required It was no longer easy like Sunday morning. I was cold inside. I was perplexed, confused, and did not have a clue of what to do. I asked my closest friends, "What shall I do?" As time slowly elapsed, and the moment of truth was facing me at my door, I continued asking my friends, "What, what, what shall I do?" To a person, they never wavered from their point of view. In fact, they really never had an opinion or point of view. They continued to say to me, "Just go with the flow". I couldn't go with the flow because the flow wouldn't go. I was reminded of a neighboring house bought one winter. They did not move in right away and someone failed to leave the furnace on. It became unusually cold in our area and the water in the pipe line turned to ice which swelled and burst the pipes. The remodeled house got flooded because the water did not flow but froze. The water pipes became like my veins, a conduit of pain with ice in the veins. After becoming frustrated with all of my friends, I said to them, "There is no flow. It's too cold. There's only ice in the veins, blocking and locking up the flow". Behind the blockage is pain and a deluge of falling rain, making every possibility of change completely impossible. It seems all is lost and every fix-it attempt is an effort in vain, a feeble exercise in futility. Why this? Why now? Why here? Why not there? Why not him? Why me? When there's ice in the veins, there is only one thing to do. Give it time. 042722PSCtest, Pick-A-Title, Vol 30. Edward Ibeh Title chose: Ice In The Veins. 2P
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