Come walk with me

Come walk with me among the stones and trees, away from the distractions and we will reflect on what truly matters. . . .

Friday, February 27, 2015

At Some Point

At some point, you simply become weary of grieving. It is boring.

You are open to new experiences: throwing rocks, throwing plates, throwing fast, throwing out, throwing up. Something must break, something must give, something must go. It must be this gluttonous grief--all consuming, all knowing, all in.

It has to go.

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