Sketches of complicated mien
Within the asylum of the mind as the channels of life-sustaining serum traverse, the flexible tubes that give and take, is the person of one who exists in a continuum of a known past, a present presence, and an indeterminate future.
Shaken at times to the core by circumstances that buffet but never overwhelm and thankfully will not overcome, there is much in the storms that rage, the winds the swirl, and the waters that surge that still gives you a sense of safety amidst the danger, terror at bay, trepidation at sight and premonition in thought.
You return to that age-old tradition, the need to count your blessings, the recollection of things to be thankful for and the sense of gratitude that informs the narrative that gets told again, only in a different arrangement of words. The words yet to find a composition that makes any sense.
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