Been burbling down into the netherland of my oh so flimsy self, not romantic this time, oh no, the flirtatious swing decidedly unavailable, as in no avail, slinking itself, folding up neuron by neuron, shadowed underlined bolded pixel compressing down the space between electrons, stilling their relationships for a shellacking. We'll look back at them one day, like we look back at those porcelinized baby shoes, the quaking little wrinkly feet foibled beyond our knowledge horizon, and laugh, I'm sure. hah. Funny humor, for the sake of relief, they will tell us, when they try to tell us something. And we'll get overly excited at the proximity that we think we have to the picture of our old selves.
And we'll long for nostalgia, and look into each others eyes and want to reproduce whatever it is that we want at that time, because it will be different than what we seek right now. We'll take our shirts off and scrutinize our bodies, falling with the weight of the inevitable.
In short, we'll have to have some sort of strength to move forward, and the strength will have to come out of something that we don't have accurate words or ideas for right now, but it will have to come, and maybe, just maybe, this is what faith is about, not in a religious sense, but in any sense. That we have to keep moving forward without being dredged into the lull of our own complacency.
No complaints and no regrets.
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