That which consumed me for a long while now rests in some dusty mental closet.
I don’t know
what I’m doing, or what I want. I have to re-evaluate... I’ve lost sight of all
that I’ve wanted for myself, and what I want to come from me for others. It
is the Buddhist concept of “impermanence,” that I’ve so pounded into my brain…
maybe it’s the battery of my faults, maybe some real life insecurity, maybe a
combination.
My motorcycle has been my prayer
vehicle. Its also about my only time alone. I come back home from whatever
little ride and I’m refreshed...
I feel like an empty house. Not empty like a receiving vessel, but
like something worn, battered by the earth, a little charred. An old house with
dark, vacant windows and paint almost completely peeled.
I am almost surprised to feel like I've come
from it. Windows with warm light instead of emptiness. Time heals. Will say that I am eager to have
my motorcycle up and running again this Spring.
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