Wednesday, July 04, 2012


haggard old needs nag,
stifle and shove,
pulling at the pant legs,
with that stubborn desire,
a hanger-on,
a leech,
a parasite,
making lonely days,
drip slow like molasses,
but to stand,
or sit, 
or run,
or work,
through the ache,
and all the chains,
can turn the fear,
into nothing but a shadow,
that you saw in the corner of your eye,
in a dream,
cutting you loose,
to energize,
to play, 
to dive deep,
into the flow.


1 comment:

Old Ollie said...

that's it man - dig it hp