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plowing ahead she rises to the occasional pique of future flowing moments unfurling from the pages of the book stuck together like morning eyelashes fluttering, no cause necessary, just practicing push pull not the same as yes or no...paralyzed in some moments along the river bank of fog, lazily drifting doing some fishin’ I think...not sure for what no bait...none taken, none given...albatross wings span the globe, circumnavigating for something like years age old pieces of me surfacing...can I really do this again? pits in my stomach of excitement and whatever else I can’t call it out because I don’t know what it is right now trepidation about movement and yet, movement is having her way with me sort of. The mess no longer supports so something must give now...I cannot keep up the illusion that I no long care...I do care...I want more than I have given myself for a very long time...unspooling threads...cannot see as I am apparently not a weaver of time...praise for the old folks who walked the wisdom paths in our illustrious world... Good night for now...eyes drifting into the downward dog... Asta la vista baby...

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

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