If I truly love the absence of pain, how can I not also love its presence? I am not above life and unique to choose. In this transient human disguise, I cannot even reliably, or consistently, distinguish between the two. Indeed, it might well be, and it might be well, that they are one.
April 5, 2019
Coming of Age
A light supper, a thunderstorm, and a sturdy hut.
Tulips blush in the afterward calm.
Who would not want to dance with them all?
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Categories: Everything and Nothing, New Poems & Pieces
