Burr push through, prick first.
'Good Enough' echoing still, the beauty in the voice
Transcending.
Becoming something worthy of calm,
The new priority.
Coagulate no more.
Leakage into clear form
Conviction is pure.
Patience to persevere
While torture skewers
Is wrapped tightly in layers.
I am a laminate
To serve, protect, and,
Perform under fire.
And I have.
I am.
I continue.
There is nothing greater
Then the great Almighty's intuition.
I labor naught in indecision
Only turn to face the warmest answer
To which has continued to shed
Over, under, and all around me.
The LORD is my Shepard; I shall not want
Explain in keener detail
Of the whereto from here
The locked in feeling of 'this'.
The Sunday blast strips most noise
Seeking effectiveness on how better to perform
The ablation so strongly desired to break into
Causal Nexus.
The sun dutifully rises, and with it, I roam
Outward and away from the true mark of each day.
I sit with these hands, aware of their tooling
And the constant misuse of their time.
Effort is a driven course with each moment, precisely held
It is my wish to practice excellence, but, up until now
It is only cerebral.
Ingestion of influence has been roasting
Confluence of the other minds that name those I love most
Has taken its fill.
T.S. Eliot, regaled.
I am irascible in my dead quest
Owing nothing to myself, but,
The brunt reality and acknowledgment
That I am the blockade,
The very blockade to my own stagnancy.
Wasteland.
Written and rewritten, chapters on end.
The blueness in my veins now curdling with
The evaporation of time wasted.
The gravel of some, the rumblings in their throats
Scrubbing my insular cortex.
I cannot be what I am not, and,
I cannot further this agenda at the back of my own line.
So,
Jump.
Or be damned by my own complacency, to no end.
The great slowdown, begun
No cicadas to calm the rib-cage
The disarray, manifesting.
The heat comes to dry out the remnants
Of a life, long-lived.
I knew this.
As deficits deepen
The compass strains to steady
Where that fuck is the answer
To calm concern?
I know, I do know, Oh how I know.
The rummage of MORE diving lower
We are not designed for forever
Bones know when tendons are through
The resistance towards final change
Lessening. And I feel it.
I feel him loosening
His grip. His fatigue. His need for rest.
I am here now to soften transitions
In any way I am able.
My Gibraltar
Anchored as the greatest Sailor
My life has known.
The Good Lord knew that to be born to him
I would pack in his strength
To live creatively, by self-propelled design.
The gift of DNA
Perpetuating.
Life unlimited, for all we can carry
I load the stock, as I do, by default.
That hammer and nail still needs building.
I loathe the goodbye that is headed my way.
I will never be ready.
Still, I understand.
