Presents

I am naked
and cold.
alone
in this season of despair.

No shield
from the emptiness
that surrounds it all.
It’s nothing.  Really.

No distraction
great enough to blink it away.
Mired in the mindless
Bogged in the boredom
Sick of the same
eating away the comfort.
bite
by
bite.

me.

I need blinders.
I need gumption.
I need
to stop
feeling sorry for myself
and
get on
with my life.

Time
the ultimate illusion
slithers through my fingers.
no trace of what was.

The indelible stamp
of “was here.”

The mark unmade.

Is that a responsiblity I can bear?

If I will, then I can.  Why don’t I?

Ah… fear!  Always a sticking point.

I cannot operate from a place of fear.
I can only operate from a place of love.
I cannot succeed if fear-based moves
are made.

Years of training
like smelling salts.
Like a whack in the face
with a cold dead fish.
Damn.

This really stinks.

Someone
has stuck
their finger in my eye.

Cry
baby.

It is time. (the illusion)
I must stop. (and begin)
Feeling sorry for myself. (in my nakedness)
Just get on (move!)
with (or without – just move)
my life.

Open.
The gift.

from 2008…

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