A thread of fire, richness and sanity. Songs of ancient days and lies that speak of what should be. The eternally accursed story. Deep, sanctioned by how many? So many. And here, now, enslaving the forgiven, ensnaring the free, and no longer claiming the soaring heights of liberty. Instead, it encases your soul in rigidity, expectation and woes. The clank of manacles against cold, hard stone. The weight of chains that were never meant for you. Opioids will only make you feel worse, healing glimpses of life touch you and then flee, and one by one you hold your wrists up to be shackled. Believing the lies. Teaching the lies. Eternally accursed. Why? Why would you? Why did you? You know better, you knew better all along and I, I will not. I dare not. I can not, because it is not. Believe. Such simplicity. Such glorious simplicity. Simply believe. Add nothing. The needing to do and the doing to be. Abated. Eternally blessed. |
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AuthorStuart McDonald is a husband, father and exercise physiologist. And a lover of words, stories, music and healing. Archives
February 2016
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