Wary of ruts –
lies I tell myself
sprouting roots,
impending progress.

Yet, without roots
how am I defined?
Does impermanence
not also leave a stain?

The ground shifts
beneath me
and I dance

inventing a rhythm
that defies ruts,
mocks impermanence
and eludes definition.

(Dancing first appeared here in May, 2018. Image my own.)


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Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

26 thoughts on “Dancing”

  1. We all dance to our own rhythm, but external forces can throw us off balance for awhile. As others have said, it’s important to keep dancing, not worry about perfection and the new norm will come. Love the image of a lonely bench, just waiting to be sat on. I wouldn’t be able to maneuver that uneven terrain to have that pleasure. πŸ™‚

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