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days.  morph into weeks.  weeks into months…

clouds hover, unchanging.

dark grey flatness which shows no promise of sun or prospect of storm.

going through the motions –

waking, walking, talking, loving, sleeping

all the same.

even fighting has no passion, only anxiety.

Joy?  no.

Faith?  perhaps.  difficult when connections are severed, real or imagined.

 

too tired to overcome, yet too strong to stop.

and so…

waiting…

 

 

 

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