Why do I
to writhe?. . .

Not sure I even
want to know. . .

It’s SO hard to let go. . .

especially from
the throes
of tangled ropes
that have me bound,
and which, in kind
I also bind. . .

At least, by now,
I’ve got the eyes
to see
that, while my road is slow,
I’ve come already
very far–
my mind
+++++my heart,
++++++++++my self–
as I do stay the course,
and do SO much
to grow. . .

And, then, at least,
there’s times
when I can see
the light that gleams
at tunnel’s end,
and, through the rain,
where bright sun
+++++creates the gentle glow. . .

+++++of many-colored
+++++arc in sky
+++++that curves,
++++++++++and spans for miles,
+++++and well informs
+++++the smile that comes
+++++as happy lips from shiny teeth
+++++do slide,
+++++as, finally, I recognize
+++++the beauty of the rainbow.

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