IfI wereto writeevery dayfor onehundred days,would my soulbe purged ofthis malaise;is it a thingto be dredged,dragged up –twistedand tiedlike tatteredbed sheetsknottedtogether;is therea remedyfor thisscourge;or is thisan inherentrestlessness,a fiery bluespark of eternalangst ignitingpassion – a callto write? (Originally posted February, 2017. Image my own)
Expectations artificialliving in an urban junglelonging for nature’s calm – time moves too swiftlybarely registerlet alone participate We are guests in our ownexpectation’s dysfunctionlicensed for depression a smorgasbord for abuseintentions mislaid,disappointment unavoidable The ego pretends to be openbut she’s an actress off cueplaying out a sentence – condemned to basicspraying to escapethis dystopian malfunction. (Image […]
I’m with you William Butler Yeats!!
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love the quote! If anyone would know fairies it would be Yeats. Reminds me of Allingham’s “Fairies”
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Thanks
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Love this! ❣️
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Thanks
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So good!
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Thanks Wynne.
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Love it! Thank you, VJ. 🙂
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🥰
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I always appreciate a bit of whimsy in the morning!
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🥰
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Delightful
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Thanks
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You’re welcome ☺️
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