notes on self.
Slipping on a steep dune of doubt,Loose sand giving way beneath my feet.
No solid purchase with which to gain ascent,
Sliding back past plateaus of hard won ground.
Hands digging into the soil,
In a futile attempt to anchor myself.
Insignificant winds remove grains of solace and security,
Sheets of terra firma that were once beneath my feet,
rain down upon my head, catch in my hair and scratch my eyes.
Long surpassed watermarks loom high above my head,
beyond hands reach once again.
Ancient bedrock becoming the quicksand in which I drown.
posted by Chef @ 3/09/2006 10:08:00 AM
2 Comments:
Priest knows of what he speaks. He's a wise old bird, bless him.
Just popped by to sya "hi" and chuck you affectionately on the shoulder. Thought you could do with that today.
Much love
La Minxxxxxxx
Chef,
It's all in your perspective. You can't ever really go back, you are just on a different path from what you envisioned. And the only way to go is forward. That's how the game is played.
One step at a time until you find your way again.
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