The start of another beginning before the end of an end
Upward and onward is the only way you go
In your smooth, synaptein existence
No jolts, no jerks, no possibility of a void
No stops,
Just an endless head-rushing ride
And as we come to the fag end of this one,
You begin to panic, but-
“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll just find something new.
That’s what you’ve always done, haven’t you?”
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Yet she finds pause to love.
To live.
She manages to fill the gaping holes in the world with her heart,
and to fill the grey days with a riot of colors.
She somehow makes this world quite perfect for the known and the unknown.
Perhaps not quite synaptein. Just symbiotic.
Finding the 'new' is inevitable. It sustains the search even if one is not actively seeking.
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