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I am not content to fall,
any deeper,  
into the hole in my soul,
which was once occupied by the relationship with you,
my only child.

I am not content to dwell,
any longer,
on that which has befallen us,
respectively,
my dearest friend.

I am not content to remain,
paralyzed,
in a robotic survival,
originating in the grotesque realities of this life and world,
yours, mine or ours.

I am intent,
on creating something,
anything,
other than:

black holes
broken hearts
and trudge.

I may not know, may not see, yet,
this new future,
but I am fervently and passionately,
intent,
on creating it.

One
Foot
In
Front
Of
The
Next  

I am not content;
therefore:
I am intent. 

~Marcela: moving toward that which has eluded me most of my life, 
one well-shod step at a time.

February 20, 2021

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