SCRAMBLED AT THE OASIS
I think we live under light -
not the kind above us but the
kind within. Keeping thus a
tendency to mix things up, we
scramble our oases : painting
fences to look like barriers
when they should be guides;
though no one really knows
the way out.
-
I can talk like this, only because
my guard is gone and I've let
down my inhibitions toward
speaking my truth. I am as
fanciful now as the darting ram,
a'jump and running across the
distant field.
-
Let me leave you with this one
morsel, a tidbit of something to
chew on : We can never be our
possibilities without us first
overcoming our liabilities.
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