|I'm getting used to this rhythm.
The bruises are hardening to calluses.
The threatening swells
knock about my little boat
don't scare me, so much, anymore.
I'm getting used to it,
this life thing.
I've stopped expecting blue skies,
that's the trick.
Then the storms
don't seem so
disappointingly catastrophic when they come.
The worst is drifting.
When no motivating winds come
from any direction,
then the crippling uncertainty sets in.
The oars are ready,
but which fucking direction.....
Where to go?
The boundless sea in front of me,
Someone tell me a joke before I forget how to laugh.