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Jon Harding

I find myself again

Within that familiar curl of smoke

That grey halo that signifies no divinity

Obscures my vision

From the brutality

And madness

That surrounds my every conscious action.

Donít be afraid

I tell myself or you Ė who can tell

When no frame of reference presents itself?

I find clarity

Only in confusion

And the will

That is inherent only in abject surrender.

More and more it seems

That I can never make sense of this

That I am fated

To flounder

And remain drowning

In the bittersweet seas

Of circumstance.

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