Monday, February 28, 2005

Fissures

February 21, 2005

6:38 AM

Status Quo.
There is no status quo.
Aleatory promises;
uncertain hooks
upon which she
hung her life;
they make it so.

Misgivings abound
as she turns her head
to look back down
the way she came.

Known for integrity;
her reputation
for loyalty and
steadfast faithfulness.

These absolutes
dissolve into mist,
and she grasps a branch
as her head
begins to spin,
and thoughts spiral
into cracks and crevices-
great fissures mended
not long ago
with the cheap concrete
of necessity.

Might-have-beens
threaten to undo
a heart turned cold
and stone-like.

"What you want
is irrelevant,
what you've chosen
is at hand."

She turns back
toward the summit,
and climbs.

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George MacDonald

"Home is ever so far away in the palm of your hand, and how to get there it is of no use to tell you. But you will get there; you must get there; you have to get there. Everybody who is not at home, has to go home."

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