by Christopher Walsh, 3/22/2019-8/10/2019
I speak from decades of experience:
You're at an oblique angle to The World.
All seems refracted, bent.
You misjudge space, views, distance,
Run into what you can't possibly imagine could be hit,
And where even imagining and thinking kind of hurt,
As gravity pulls on thoughts until distorted,
Scratched like now-bloody kneecaps.
(You don't remember how they got scratched.)
A parade of of the Harder Than It Has To Be,
Than It Seems It Should Be,
Blocking your way to Simpler and Easier.
© Christopher Walsh, 2019. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Christopher Walsh (chris_walsh) with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.