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I didn’t sign up for this:

Aches: always.  Pain: often.

Sleep: elusive.  Fatigue —

fatigue grabs the majestic horse straining at the

bit wanting to run, run, gallop. . .

Fatigue grabs this energy and pulls it

into a brown hole.

A brown hole is like a black hole,

except that it’s a mess of colors, not an absence of them.

All around, creativity, life, color —

I want to live that!  Now!

Not a little, but a lot!

A new color from within

tinges the brown hole an earthy golden.

This gold welcomes the blues and the violets,

the reddish pink.

Come in, mix with me.

We mix, but do not remain brown.

In my own way

I separate out the colors and let them

move out, beautifully.

Differently:  slowly, but intentionally.

The horse, calmed, enjoys the meadow.