Dark to dark, daylight only lighting the course to run. Bed to bed, resting in between the movie of the day. On the lam, escaping from the past, the seconds, minutes hours that fall behind as we plunge ahead into new seconds, minutes hours that each in turn end up behind as well. A maze, or an amazing checkerboard with cubicles of time that we can visit in our mind, but never can return to in reality.
I wonder, is there a box that flashes “winner?” or do we merely stop when all the boxes have been filled.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
when you write like this I never know what to say, but I am amazed by your talents.
Thank you for your kind words. I was almost too embarrassed to reply on the comments section, but wanted to let you know how much they were appreciated. It’s hard to vacillate between hard reality and looking at the same picture in life in a more poetic way. Wish we could all learn to look deeper inside, beyond grey realities, all the time.
Sometimes these posts are the springboard to other, more difficult things that are waiting to be written. Sometimes they exist as there own entity, filling up all the space.
When you write, it is good. So simple.