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~
When light falls
To horizon’s brink,
Brave legacies rise
From the darkest ink.

When all is dark,
And gold weeps bleak,
Abysmal words
Reflect what we seek.

~
I finally got it in italics!
They love and lose,
    I have no
love to choose.

They fall,
    and feel it all —

I
 fall,
      and
        don’t
          feel
        ­    at
              all.



They don't talk
     'cause they don't.
I don't talk
     'cause they won't —
        hear me...

          they won't
            see me.



They love me as a friend
    But
      I play pretend.

They blame it’s
   their fault —
        but I know it’s
          not —
              'cause it’s

me.
    I’m my own
        burdening.



Though I silently hope
    they'll carry
       all my weight.

I know it might hurt,
        but
                                      I just want a
              break —

Still, I’ll stay
      I’ll help you
         through the day
.



They see

    a hero
         through their eyes,

but I made myself

      a villain
         deep inside.

Heroes
    don’t save
       their foes.

Plus —

    they don’t really know
         what’s hidden

                  below.
My internal conflict of random fragmented thoughts
-
You're pressed against the wall
They don't listen at all
The rope – your final call

Is it right
To threaten to die
Or
Are they just selfish cries
For the life you're denied?
-
Nah, dw, I'm not touching the rope

I read an article and ever since then this thought has been running in my mind for a while.
Would you rather
Live the life you want
and hurt?
Or live the life you need
In hurt?
Contemplating
What’s wrong with me? I’ve been asking myself this all week.
Anyone who knows me will tell you that I weigh questions coldly and logically. Then it hit to me.. it’s summer, silly, and I'm in classes!

A typical summer would find me tanned, sunburned, greased and unkempt, like a happy, sandy, beach hobo, my hair would be either braided or left fly-about to tangle into cotton candy wads.

My bf Peter’s learned to like fine restaurants (You’re welcome). I’d have never left the beach on my own.
“They can bring us anything,” I’d argue, looking up pitiably from my shaded, Tropitone lounge chair.

Around sundown, Peter would have to catch me, slippery oiled and brown, to comb me out and scrub me before dinner.
“Get dressed!” he’d encourage, picking out a dress suitable for dining or casino wear - “I made us a reservation.”

I’d come out of the hotel en-suite in one of their fluffy, Versace, terry towels but invariably, before I was even dry,  Peter would shake his head, growl and say, “Com-mere,” holding his arms out a little, palms up
(he’s never been very verbose), and smirking a little, I would, because his expression reminded me of Christmas.
“What about our reservation?” I’d chuckle.

This was, of course, a volunteer situation, where it was up to us all to do our best.
.
.
Songs for thus:
Girls On the Beach by Carter Cathcart
Wouldn't It Be Nice by Papa Doo Run Run
Please Let Me Wonder by Carter Cathcart
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 07/01/25:
Verbose = using too many words to convey a point.
Give me the colors of a rainbow and I'll be your heart's extol  
or a petal from your favorite rose so I can place it in my soul;
Send me the pillow the fairies have gleaned with watermark  
I'll hold it to my chest until I hear the melodious coo of a lark!  

Be a Spiritual Gem inside me, I will polish and make you shine  
like a soaring star I'll glitter so you know,"I'm truly~truly thine."
NM!
No more performing —
No more presenting —
No more people-pleasing,
And seeking attention.
Can I do that? With no treason?
Is there a people-pleasing anonymous?
PPA?!
Dismissed from long ago,
When? I don't really know.
Wallowing can now wait
It’s time to live, not hate!
Wounded,
But loved —
Coveted;
Beloved.
From the archives
Lawrence Hall 2d
A Shepherd's Path from La Salette
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office


                 A Shepherd’s Path from the Mountain of La Salette

            For a good and kindly priest who is being transferred
                              after forty years of faithful service


                   The old order changeth, yielding place to new

                                -Tennyson, Idylls of the King


We don’t know if the cart drivers have stopped swearing
Or if the potato crops are doing well this year
Or if the rocks have indeed become wheat
Or if everyone prays an Ave each day

We don’t know if the Field of Coin still flourishes
Or if the people of Corps faithfully attend Mass
Or if barefoot boys and girls still herd sheep
Or if they listen, as did Melanie and Maximin

But we do know that Our Lady of La Salette
To care for us through our pilgrimage in time
In a land far from that holy mountain
Has blessed us with Her most faithful missionary

Through the ordinal cycles of seasons and feasts
He served the Table in the Name of the Lord
He baptized us, taught us, confirmed us, confessed us
Married us, anointed us, and buried our dead

Through blessed years and tears and nights and days –
But now to the Will of God
We surrender him with thanks and prayers and praise


                         And God fulfils Himself in many ways

                                                   -Tennyson
Notre Dame de La Salette, Our Lady of La Salette, Missionaries of La Salette, and, lurking in the background, a high-ranking ecclesiastic who isn't very nice to priests who actually work hard and serve humanity.
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