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 May 2016 Chris G Vaillancourt
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Somedays this whole
that I don't feel
is like a hole
that needs filling.
An empty space
that won't let go.
Another place I find
myself in that's growing old.
But that's the highway
talking, because
if I was a walking
man I would have gone
home a long time ago.
As I watch the numbers on my clock run out
I wonder if I have done enough
Have i let go of my youthful lust
Have I been able to renew my spirit of the mind?


As I  anticipate more numbers on my clock
I wonder if I will have enough time
Time to travel to read to just explore
Will I have  time to say hello with love and goodbye with gratitude?

So far I have tried my best , I promise I have,
to do  everything expected of me ( by Grace)
Don't judge me just yet ,my time will come
And till that day lets anticipate growth
the paradox of growing old
I span time -

in every instance -

I am sickness -

devoured by flame -

reborn through Ice -
Part me like a Christian sea
resect the vvorst of me
extend my breath
these vvords
to speak
to spill
to see
this modern day Job
I vvrithe under
your knife
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dVMfISO9T1Q
Tethered to an illusion
He'd rather sink than swim
Abandon all six senses
Rather than feel desolation again

Tis' no crime to trace one's edges
But falling off is a different matter
Shame is a seaworthy vessel
Sailing on oceans of greed and clatter

He rappels from throne on high
Storms heed no man's command
An avalanche of fears behind him
Ahead, a bleak and lifeless wasteland

But seams don't tear unless they fray
Utopia costs more than infinite gold
Ambition built this city of avaritia
But he watches it crumble beneath the soul he sold
Waters pour
From clouds on high
Restoring life
To a world so dry

I long to be reborn
Like the grass and grain
So I kick off my shoes
To dance with the rain
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