A Complicated Case: the tangle of trying, ties me to my ways willfully circulating through the endless polar days of existence, a relentless insistance on persisting through the haze-filled push-pull tug of resistance, with the need to surrender tugging firmly at my sleeve. Slow down And just breathe my way to peace. but still i fail to cease still grease the wheels of cog-turns with my lonely victim needs. There's no step free. Dependency's contracts feel too familiar and cosy while the little me needs so much love to stand tall and just be she. And though i see, and perceive, the brow's balance becomes a constant challenge to achieve and believe me, this strivings not easy, it leaves me queasy and confused as i tumble up & through the backdrop of my mind, A hundred million whispers of a thousand trillion rhymes harks the sheer potential volume of the law of kind to kind... *********************************************** Work in progress - trying to find my voice. Constructive criticism welcome. This is due to be the first half and the second half is gonna maybe have the sense of more freedom - a potential escape from the cycles? It's for my graduation from 3 years training as a Homeopath and is supposed to reflect the mixture of awareness, frustration and hope that has characterised that journey. It is new for me to try to write creatively, and even more terrifying to think of delivering spoken word (to music?). And yet that is what that part of me that I'm learning to trust knows that I need to do. Don't know why or how but it seems important... anyone got any advice?!