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By wistful Date: 2005 Mar 28 Comment on this Work [[2005.03.28.00.28.316]] |
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There is no way to begin a change, but to begin. This undirected energy will burrow me into the ground. A time for rebirth, I counseled. Mine too. I want him because he is unattainable. Fully admirable, yet for me, I would only lose myself To serve, and not be served myself. I can't go back, and yet I want to. Because I lose myself. I'm filled with anger which turns to self-pity which turns to regret which turns to self-loathing which turns to longing which turns and turns and turns As I type ever slower until the letters dry up And I stand transfixed by my own reflection Marveling that others do not see the picture in the attic that stares back at me. Begin somewhere Do something. Clear a space for something new And do not let the tide of all that remains undone Overwhelm into immobility. The pain, unattended, only grows This inertia is its feeding ground Running only returns me to the pain faster Begin. |