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So many dark days, not even sure the number.
Just that light at the end of the tunnel, drawing me.
Weak times, I sit down....
I lean against the tunnel's edge.
Other times I snap back up and run, forward, onward.
Sometimes it smells moldy in here.  

Suddenly, the end is right in front of me.  
I almost slip and fall out without even stopping to notice.
I stop, look back... smile.
Looking into the light, tears.

The sun has come out to play again, and so have I.
The Randomness of things
is inexcusable

How randomly we meet
and part our ways

We fall apart
estranged from what we loved

For no reason at all
and no governing rules

Fresh meat becomes
Leftovers of tomorrow

Fresh love is turned
into a surge of pain

The randomness of days
is inexcusable

How randomly the night
steals us away

And never to return
from its mysterious depth

our eyes
get adjusted to the dark
 Dec 2010 Gannon
Carl Sandburg
THE single clenched fist lifted and ready,
Or the open asking hand held out and waiting.
Choose:
For we meet by one or the other.

— The End —