Tuesday, 17 May 2011

Atrophy Of The Senses

The waiting game...

With the avenues for income set; all preparatory measures are complete. Nothing now but to watch the slow creep of time, with bare subsistence and stark frugality as my constant companions.

All attempts to fill this uncertain void seemingly fail at the first hurdle, or plummet into the abyss between now, and soon. In the midst of this, my doubt is ever-present. Thus I am struck down with the consternation of one so gnawed with unease.

Prepossessing of its nature to mislead; yet fully aware that the future may not bring the riches so needed. However, to bear it with equanimity would be the choice tactic. To withstand the breadth of despair which waits to engulf if all comes to ruin.

Just to feel the unfettered release of creation, without the potent scent of apprehension. Which so oft seeks to tarnish what should be an irreproachable and hallowed joy.

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