of what was
and what could be,
why am I so slow
to sink into what IS?
Resistance always seems to be
a determining factor,
a guiding force
that keeps me from letting
the wash of events
seep into my pores
and nourish me.
A life
lived on the surface of now
is always laced
with petty irritations
and worthy projects,
but if I were to sink into the cracks
would I not find
the irritations worthy,
the projects petty in comparison?
* * *
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