Friday morning, Thursday night. Sitting down to write what’s right.

Friday morning, Thursday night.

Sitting down to write what’s right.

I thought I knew, but not so anymore.

My feet still planted firmly on the floor.

 

Does it come from ignorance or arrogance?

This fickle faith in intelligence?

And if I’m wrong… what does it matter?

A lesson learnt, amongst the clatter.

 

I did, and said, some things to you.

My intentions blind, but true.

Unreflected in my actions.

Miscommunication deserving sanctions.

 

Remove myself from this situation,

Of broken promises, and deviation.

The prospect of time together weighs as burden.

Unfair! Rare!

 

Raring to run! As I often have.

Yet there is no hiding place, in fate.

Receive the challenge and feel the tension.

How does it lie with your intuition?

 

“Sure you know yourself.” the familiar friend,

Nor foe cries out. It’s what this life, is all about.

You must decide. One way or ‘nother.

Listen to what’s connecting you; the mother.

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