I have been on the
"Road To No-Where" from the moment of conception and have traversed many a long, empty and desolate pathway.
Once upon a time I danced, sang, walked miles and watched the world move, I painted, sketched, wrote prose, poetry and short stories about being.
Some liked and enjoyed my presence, my works, the little bits that I created...
Stolen, gone, obliterated.
My choices? To ignore, move on or remember, grow sad, then angry...
Bitterness is dark, but comfortable. If I don't create there's nothing to steal. Bitterness is dark, but safe. If I stay still and quiet, it's me, only me and how well I learn to appreciate me. It's not them. They've already shown me who and what they are. It's me now and I am here to observe life now, not really to participate in living.
Take my things but not my arts.
They did. I retreated.
I'm clawing a way back... I let the world grow around me, there's a lot of clawing to be done. I'm not yet sure why, maybe it's because I'm growing stronger... or died in the over-growth and now feel indestructible. After all... we might die a million times, but we can be murdered only once.
With Thanks:
@JK_Woodhauler
@JudahKessler
@NYC8539266
@Otto_Didactic
Special Thanks:
@MrGsRoundHillNY