Write

How can I not write after all these years, these months, these days.  Now the avoidance of time.  I am no longer in a hurry.  The poems will right themselves or disappear never to be seen.  Either way is a blessing.  Only when the work is done can we rest and there is so much work to do.  I am tried of procrastinating my life, of not believing.  Tried of every sunset where nothing was done and the morning comes undone.  Breaking the inertia is the hardest moment of my life.

See the alpenglow

What better sign than this one

To start a great task

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Write