Presence

When Now comes along

With a left hook to the gut

It’s instinct that insists

Elsewhere

Is

Was

Would be

Better.

 

Self-preservation –

The quartz at the core

Of a spluttering Human dynamo,

Beating ceaselessly

Despite being drowned

In the murky molasses

Of all-engulfing instants.

 

When Now comes along

With a left hook to the gut,

A stab to the psyche

And buckshot to the brain,

It’s easy to forget

That simpler times

Didn’t hurt any less.

 

Yet you strode with resolve

Over those burning coals,

And with only bare feet

Crushed those broken shards.

 

Surviving each battle,

Bloodied and bruised

You banished each winter

Held tighter by scars.

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