Take It Easy.
Once more, at the chasm. Hours and hours spent, peering into it; pondering and wondering. Finality is accepted. It is hopeless. Even if these is a bottom, it couldn't possibly come soon enough. Turning my back on it once, more, knowing that, even with this finality reached, it won't stop you. You'll be back tomorrow, and the next day. Laying under the tree again, solemn. A small twig from the ground in your hand. Shaped like a Y; two points converge into one line. Twisting it between your fingers, studying it. So similar. Grabbing either end of the Y and ripping it in two. The slight snap as the twig reaches its breaking point is a sweet, sad sound. Tossing one piece to the side, where it lands on top of a fallen leaf. Take the second piece, place it in your pocket. The wind blows slightly, the leaf, with the twig still atop it, slides across the ground slowly. Stand up, walk away. The tree is useless to you now. But again, you know you'll return to it. With that little piece always in your pocket. To a new place. No, not new, simply forgotten. A large stone, resting about a hundred yards from the river. Leaning against it, you feel comfortable; things feel right again. But then, as you rest against it, you remember why you discarded this location. No matter how you position yourself, a piece of the rock always seem to jut out in just the right way. In such a way that it's always at the base of your spine, digging into it, causing far more discomfort than the peace and solace the rock can provide as a hole. So again you move.
Wandering now, your favorite places all discarded and useless to you. Until tomorrow of course. You'll fall asleep. Maybe under the stars, or maybe in your bed, for once. Probably neither, since the stars don't like to come out at night anymore. It's something in the night air; you can't place your finger on it, but it pushes the stars away. You fall to sleep. Knowing that tomorrow, this cycle will begin, yet again. But now, this cycle is all you have. Without it is just the river.
Wandering now, your favorite places all discarded and useless to you. Until tomorrow of course. You'll fall asleep. Maybe under the stars, or maybe in your bed, for once. Probably neither, since the stars don't like to come out at night anymore. It's something in the night air; you can't place your finger on it, but it pushes the stars away. You fall to sleep. Knowing that tomorrow, this cycle will begin, yet again. But now, this cycle is all you have. Without it is just the river.
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