I never even got to say goodbye, never any good at it anyway. Like pulled away, maybe not kicking and screaming but gasping for breath about to go under the water. And now I'm screaming and no one can hear. But once I look around I can see how beautiful every thing is. Even if it's nothing like I thought, and nowhere I thought I'd be. Taking my time. To realize every day will never come again.
Goodbye to you.
1 comments:
Ahhhh . . . "Thinking" . . . for me it is a tool. Like any tool, good for what it is meant to do; and we must, I think, find the job that it works for us the best.
As for expectations . . . again, for me, a tool . . . but in my decades here on earth, I simply cannot find the job that it is meant to do . . . every time I've used it, it keeps smashing my fingers . . . has never "fixed" anything . . . a 'tool' that I threw out long ago :) Scott
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