An Inconstant Outpour of the Bottomless Light

Used to be this before that and no tit without the tat and a thank you took its shoes off on the you’re welcome mat.

And that was that.

Then a thing was learned. A book was read. A night was lived through morning. A love was found and lost and found again and lost again and found again, again and lost again, again and found anew.

And a perennial fight was won.

And the light which rarely blinked was woke and shone through heart and soul. The fucks that once were never given showed now the world their role. It isn’t love, but it is it’s equal: a sun to match the high and waning tides that come from the bright and looming moon.

It’s the return of the relinquished. The give back for nothing gotten. The give all no matter what. The give all despite the want and want and want. Reciprocity in all things fair is too simple for what the light asks. No night basked typecast fight back. No wiped ass finance rhyme grabs.

The eternal, endless omniscient light, seen by many as a burden, seen by many as a weakness, seen by many as a crutch, is seen as so because it is all these things, for the infinite extends far past the greatness rarely achieved, the strength rarely gained and the power envied, clawed and scratched for.

And so in its midst the weak do waiver; they are confused.

Be strong, the light is yet to find you. To each their own their pace as traveled. The day soon shall come when the douchery of this poetry will translate to something more flintstone chewable. The light does not exclude resentment.

But if time has promised anything, you’ll forget this by tomorrow.

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