Monday, 2 November 2015

Writing Again

The writing stopped when the reading started. The chaotic reading that consumed every alternative hour. The balance was lost. The loss was missed.

And so it paused and was parked and was mute. I was mute.

It is odd that we have a finite amount of time. Some days that hits me and other days it feels like we have forever. It seems only to be a hard limit when the wall appears in my face while I'm moving at light speed.

It is time for more balance. For some damn balance. For a semblance of balance at the very least.

Lets do that then.

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