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My words are thrown like stones hitting a wall. They penetrate nothing. They fall to the ground in a pile of rubble. Not even the dust is able to rise around them.
Why do I continue to reach for another stone? Why can I not be released back into the lake of complacency where I was first ensnared? Why must the words be pulled like a child being ripped from a mother's womb? They breathe life and then they must be nursed. They are imperfect. They are demanding. They will ultimately control me.
Have mercy on me. I live in the abyss of mediocrity. This I know. And this I cannot endure.
I reach for another lovely stone...
Why do I continue to reach for another stone? Why can I not be released back into the lake of complacency where I was first ensnared? Why must the words be pulled like a child being ripped from a mother's womb? They breathe life and then they must be nursed. They are imperfect. They are demanding. They will ultimately control me.
Have mercy on me. I live in the abyss of mediocrity. This I know. And this I cannot endure.
I reach for another lovely stone...
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About Me
- Toni Tunstall Reyes
- Nashville, Tennessee
- It is never too late to be what you might have been....George Eliot
Oh...indeed.
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