There were all these hatchets, hatchets buried years ago. It turns out I jut hid them, sat on them like a hen on eggs, waiting, waiting as they grew. They multiplied and divided to produce little mini-hatchets and the shovel I held wouldn't do the digging for me.
I thought just now about letting this last hatchet go, is it even worth it? Without shared sense of validation, no give and take. What would be the point? To burn up a few more karmic dollars? How many more do I have to spare.
In the now, how great it is to be freed. But the noose gets looser all the time, but you'll pull a cord and I'll grasp the rope around my neck to keep the strangle at bay.
Letting go is hard.
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