Pinch of iniquities, cramp the days
The torment of shallow beliefs clings thickly to impressionable ignorance.
This, the reason for 'off the grid' living.
These inanimate objects that crowd around me
Hold varying degrees of value as I conceptualize my future.
Pruning of memories is inevitable, while I gauge the worth of attachments
That may or may not, make it through this transition.
Taos, firmly planted into my psyche, perpetually enticed
To return there and traipse the land long enough to pick over trails
And commit them to memory.
The washing of slate has begun.
As that action performs its magic, mental limbo twists and turns
Bound by the need to chase inertia into safe corners
To breed more doubt and insecurity. I feel the resistance to change
And ante up my resilience. Fuck monotony and the hamster wheel it cruises in.
My dreams demand much of me and I honor that call.
There were sacrifices that came before my name was first spoken,
And to their due, I will not be remiss in their payment.
This life is built for creation.
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