Write. Ok. On it.

Pages upon pages
archived and gatherered
where no light is shed.
Express exemplary…
Free these pennings from ego,
bluster, or stymieing stifling.
No! Balanced and level!
Long range rifling…
Close doors and windows.
Open the skylight.
Hope that I rise
is not the same as mustering my prana
and marshalling my grammar
and abiding in my center
watching chaos spin fractal webs
of outcome, desire, regret and victory smokes.
The tapestry of this section of life…
Beyond editing…
Appreciate all aspects.
The story is riveting.
More than just a culmination of genes
or assignment to teams…
This is cleanable slate.
This The Force meets tabula rasa.
The kid could go all the way.
Or has he already?
Time will tell.
Rat or rate?
Reitirate. Will you stay true?
Will you relate or will you seek control?
The illusion of security
precludes the purity
that is free to say, “I don’t know.”

Daiikiru Akasha Maximillion


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