And so dear readers; my good, good friends; my faithful few; my happenstance visitors, I shall say au revoir for just a bit.  It’s not adieu.

I am just too tired right now to carry on.  There is nothing fanciful, or funny, or fruitful that I can apply to your lives.  Perhaps later….

The Great Abyss

by Brenda Byassee

It has won this battle, this brawl:
Blinded, battered, bruised, and beaten.

The blackest night does e’re compare
to the mist of the great abyss.

The hole so mighty as to make
a soul so filled with dark and dank

From tears shed by the lowly one,
from tears shed by the lowly one.

Mixed and mingled with the mist,
the tears trickle, let unleashed.

All the while misty fingers pull
the lowly one into its pool

Of depth and dark and black decay
to lie and cry and feel the pain

Before arising to look up,
before arising to look up.

Begin the struggle once again,
to climb from out the putrid place.

A foot too heavy with the weight
to fall into a healthy pace;

A hand too weak with such sorrow
to grasp the hope of tomorrow.

The aching heart is so heavy;
The aching heart is so heavy.

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