nothing II

there is nothing to
be done
there is just the
getting up next morning
the alone
the travelling towards
daily obligation
the hard road
with stones sharp
enough to cut the feet
the heart brimming
on despite the
forfeits asked the
forfeits given
there is no choice
now - has never been
an end, a beginning,
there is just the
going on the
constant wearing
of the soul's
constellations -
I will become so
thin with this
paring that the
next one will
blow me away
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