Some days I will find myself
Fishing at the bottom of the barrel
With a gun and still failing to hit my target.

When haze and shadow cloud perception
And anxious waiting overthrows me
And nothing is up or down
Only the underside of the sea, churning.

Other days I hear the sea and I greet its mist with invigoration and life
I fear not the churning, nor the shadow of perception
And I openly cast my line into the raging waters
To find a catch on the first attempt.

Today is somewhere in the very middle of these.


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