***

It seems most peculiar how the tiniest thing can sway ones mind. Say, you've held on to a particular ideal for such a great amount of time and then, too sudden to detect or determine the wherefore, you have lost that vantage point and now view things in an entirely new shadow.


Sometimes what seems so very important isn't, and what, surprisingly, one detests, is. Tis difficult to see much through closed eyes opening to nebulous skies and starry-eyed sighs. The swarming clouds overhead buzzing lies in each ear; one for jealousy, one for loss. Priorities seem to be discombobulated. Insomniac dreams convoluted catastrophes revel in the revealing of surreptitious realities.

Just briefly, the distractions wain, and those that knew walk closely behind, clandestine, consistent, a rare gift in wolfs clothing. A spirit meandering, first one and back and then forward again. At present, halted. Pensive.

These too shall pass, remembering to think the words cowardice bespoke over and over and again....