It's repetitive. Love.
It starts one day-
we fall into a well,
thinking it clouds.
The falling makes us dizzy,
we still think it's a cloud.
When we wake up,
we see gashed knees.
— % &It's repetitive. Love.
We sit in the well,
thinking the darkness
is our new home.
Can't see light,
can't stand,
can't run.
We gain courage
to look above
and among the
brightest lights
we see a branch,
hanging there,
to rescue us. — % &It's repetitive. Love.
We hold it,
with afraid hearts-
What if we fall again?
What if the well becomes deeper?
What if we can't come back?
What if the knees break?
We still hold it,
it pulls us,
or we push us,
or both may be.
And there we are.
Ready to fall again. — % &
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