A sense of impending
Doom covers me in a
Cotton dress of Anxiety

“Is this mine?” I ask myself.
My gut responds with 50/50

“Carry it quietly,” the mind

The burdens.

“Quiet my ass,” I think.

I sing. Loudly. In my car.
In the dark. Exhausted.

“Is everything better?” I ask
My gut responds with 50/50

“Do not burden silence,” the mind

The noise.

“Burden my ass,” I think.

I write. Freely. Here.
In lamplight. Exhausted.

Seeking a way
Through Darkness
By not focusing
On its state
But on ours

Some days it will
Feel you have given
So much
That not only can you
Not catch up to

But hopes that
Another can discern
The racer from
The straggler
Begins to dwindle

Because it is stray
Animals that are
Turned away, and
Put down

In falsely justified

All the while man lives
Overpopulated and

Without due cause
Or just reason
Turned away, and
Put down

So at night, I look
More deeply into
A stranger’s eyes

To affirm
That vision is not
Limited to Sunlight

When the gut returns
A response of 50/50
I look more deeply
Into the heart

To affirm
That love is not
Limited by Context

Circumstance has
No vindication greater
Than Love’s Persistent

Have you ever worked in an office environment with annoying fluorescent lights that you didn’t have the freedom to turn off?

Have you ever met someone who had that freedom, turned them off, and then showed you what real light was?

I did, but never told him how an act he likely saw as inconsequential, revealed a potentially hidden subverter determined to take command of circumstance

Shadows can’t hide passion or pain that endeavors to radiate hope.

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