Everything is on automatic, on a conveyor like that scene
from I Love Lucy when she worked in the candy factory and could not keep up with
production, stuffing her face with piece she could not wrap, Halloween over,
Thanksgiving looming ahead, after which the rest of the holiday season rolls
on, one event after the next until we plunge into a whole new year and into the
silence of snow.
I wonder if this is the same for you, the rush of days and
then the depths of quiet?
What is there left but the discarded Christmas wrappings and
New Years resolutions she never keep.
What is it we steer for when the old year has run aground
and all our petty ambitions float away from the shipwreck, leaving us lucky to
have survived?
I no longer see you here in my world. Still, you are a
spirit that haunts this place, after you have gone on to rebuild a life you
lost when this ship sank, yet must cling to the driftwood, until you find something more solid to hold
onto, to keep you from drowning in all this.
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