The winds have shifted, the night is closing in.
I am reminded of my boyhood. Days alternating between urgent release and listless defeat. It was easier, back then, to sift through the rubble of failure in search of whatever presumed lesson was waiting for me. And even when none existed, my imagination had no trouble fashioning one out of whole cloth.
The years since have learned quiet submission. Yet they still secretly mock the very contours of reality. And evenness and restraint have grown furious with the cost of it all. Who am I to stand in the way?
The winds have indeed shifted. But I will rage through the night.
Silence is no longer enough.
Image Credit: Pixabay
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