A chronicle of ten steps in time.

I wish I could say this steadily, however I still have doubts.

I doubt whether or not I’m able to sort my way through all these scars.

Laid down by time,

across mind and body.

Leaving me to a fait penser,

Of lone, lone action.

Hence, to a coming back of appreciation.

For allowing to be touched,

And to touching.

May wolves no more be conditioned to be alone against their will.

And with this, so may I.

I recall all those strives,

I recall all those moments.

I will not be consumed by them,

no more.

But more.

And more.

Much more me

A lot more than I

There were you.



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