Grasping for a Walk

The matters of survival…came minus a note.

It arrived with no fanfare…

Teasing me…so, perhaps, I would not know it was there.


The tactics did not grasp at straws.

It was kindred to a hungry, stray dog…giving to a constant gnaw.

Eating and thriving …

Instincts purposeful and raw.


By happenstance, my strategy began under covers.

I stuck my head in a sand of cotton.

Instead of waking up…I came to.

All but the pain had been forgotten.


And, thus I began my infinite walk towards survival.

Yet, I have never been a fan of the games people play.

Always had to do things my own way.

Discovering…long ago, when walking alone, there is no deceiving with the faces we portray.


the Beatles
And, in the End, the love we take is equal to the love we make.


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