I fear the denouement –
the moment of reckoning
when the winding path
unravels; when intentions,
transient at best, reveal
themselves as common lies
and soul crumples before light
recognizing this is not the end.

(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @ Vjknutson. 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.

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