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gnawing at the belly by walt valentine Printer Friendly

it is just as you say

just like i, too, would write at first

full of pain like a dying wolf caught in a trap

each direction a dead end

each day dull and dreary

with only the odd moment of peace

but a misunderstood peace that would quickly skyrocket

into an unsustainable burnbliss that is hot on the brain

ever and ever to extremes

never a balance

only this or that

all or nothing

captivity or escape

bliss or boredom

life or death

and some frightening schizophrenia

knocking continually at the door

begging entry

constantly giving unwarranted advice

and spreading doubt and ennui

like cancer throughout the heart and mind

and what is there to do?

what can be done to assuage this monster?

nothing and nothing and again nothing i say

like a rock or a mountain sits stalwart through the storm

unflinchingly patient

knowing that no storm, no extreme can ever last

so we sit secure in ourselves,

ourselves which are constant flux as well,

and wait

without hope or fear or expectation

only a simple and gentle watchfulness

balanced steadily upon a quiet and complete surity

until slow in utter immensity

like the fragrance of a field of flowers

the benediction


and envelopes



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