Bulky Pages

 The repetition has begun to denounce nearly all former points.

Tis a sin to read, and reread of years past and their resolute points..

A-ha! Here I am again, beginning with an intro to open again that door

That spells the same message. The trade, the worth, the wait - but wait!?

Show me the twist! Am I now catering to more of the same?

Or when, upon when, upon the when of fucking whens, will I build anew?

In the flux, the ease of known patterns continues to wrestle for the lead.

No. 

Dear red Moleskin, your intentions have held strong, your bulky pages

Do beckon for more seawater and gouache swirl. Your dried captions

Entertain me further. This time; this now; this outcome; structure loosely

A life of firm sound, built away from the bulk of these musings.

It is as if the ether has layers that are now exposed to me;

And the where to from here requires that I peel those layers apart

And climb right in - to the life that now presents itself.

50 soon. One last year for forty. To untie, unravel and eradicate monotony.

It is courageous to open this mouth and with fluid intention

Speak of the life I want. The life I am willing to build. The opening of 

Good futures. Grand canvases are touched and handled with care

Often, and again, and often even more. Pushed, adjusted, hung, examined.

I have catered to intensity my whole life. I have controlled what I could

To accentuate secure outcomes, and I have done this well.

This new Season is forming. This next phase is determined. 

Empowered enough to take the echo of all I have been exposed to

And rocket my way to something stronger, heartier, healthier, warmer

Loved in ways that are without limit, and felt with ease.