Write As Rea

The happy intersection between what I want to write and what people want to read.

There is only today,

There is no more,

But along comes a day just like the day before.

A little voice whispers-maybe now,

but always seems to struggle not to be drowned out.

Like ‘patience on a monument’

you sit there Shakespeare clever, but still it drags on never changing

for the better.

And hope?

What is that in this bland monotony?

A treadmill of anxiety that goes on and on forever.

Where’s the light at the end of the blankety-blank tunnel?

I’m tired of waiting

Maybe it’s time to move to greet the future

I’m not a statue after all.

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