Parables

There is an intense wrestling between the folly & the discretion—they sit so close, side by side. 

I ponder my heart, dissecting it’s inner chambers, reading what’s been scratched crudely & elegantly onto each of its warm fleshy walls. The tedium & the fascination, these quiet meditations, circling about themselves, spiralling & uncoiling; one life, transforming, slowing, as do eyes in the shifting light. 

Side by side they sit, giggling in youth; but age, brings a war. One will live & one will die—it’s a set battle between two deep willed things. Both are cunning in their own way. Both are equally strong.

I push Folly from her ledge—it is a long slow death, and I must watch until her last breath. This is the way of the victor & the prey. 

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