We live much of life amid unique choices. Joy is anchored in The One beyond our life. |
Taking daily steps is boring when we'd spend our life exploring other lands, overseas, wandering lust. Some are fancy with their living, others bless by joyous giving, "squeaky wheels are always getting the grease." Days are filled with cleaning dishes, waiting for our hopes and wishes, cleaning floors, a must for animal hairs. Daily writing takes one's brain cells with goodness slow, takes time to jell, while writing alone, sitting in my space. Waiting is a part of life, too, as sleeping costs its daily due for who can go without a nightly nap? Keeping fit each day is grueling as we're aging muscles schooling, consistency is hopeful in the end. Let's keep at it in the woodshed, writing tomes of words we want read, pouring through Reason's sieve to see what sticks. Trudging hours of weary writing without a publisher biting as mind-muscles are formed for the long haul. "Is it worth it?" we still wonder o'er the hills, through valley thunder with a marathon run through cold and rain. One day when I least expect it, "Your work is good, we'll direct it" as days of waiting have their final worth. |