Saturday, August 27

It's always 9:15 when I look up

I come in
A dark room, but busy as my eyes adjust
I am finding my wary way

Just beyond my reach I see what I will see soon
That there is a world here; I move inwards, I am of the world I see
There is still darkness
I do not have to feel my way as cautiously as before

I can walk now. I am seeing.
I can begin to anticipate

I run, faster, almost tripping almost falling almost feeling
Being

The world has order as the world slips past
As it fades I travel with the people I have met
I feel them beside me

The end comes faster now
The bottom part of the slide until it stages me and I am slowing
And landing on an ending that I gently defend as best.

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