When I stare point-blank
Into all that is not there
And realize this sham
For what it is, the mist
Dries up, the fog dissipates like on the lenses of glasses
Unexpectedly, everything is clear.
What, then, do I attribute
This unrelenting life?
How does one risk all
For one last roll of the dice
When the odds are always against?
Easy, easier still with nothing
Nothing left to grasp
Holding loosely, how can I not fall?
I see me slipping through cracks
I pretended not to see
Too dangerous, precarious at best
So, I am frozen to this unlikely spot
Reduced and fading as a dream
Counting out my days like pennies in a jar
Abundant and worthless
Cruel irony that I know how to live
—Christina Knowles (2015)
Photo snagged from odinist.org
Going from thought to thought
A gibbon from tree to tree
Off to play in the teak and ebony
Sunrise in the Rosewood
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